


When We Grow Up

by babyrubysoho



Category: Big Bang (Band)
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Idols, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Coming of Age, Drama & Romance, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fame, Family Drama, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, GTOP, Gen, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Jealousy, K-pop References, Loyalty, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Military, Overdosing, Private Investigators, Revenge, Sibling Incest, Sibling Rivalry, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-03-30 20:50:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 199,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13959756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babyrubysoho/pseuds/babyrubysoho
Summary: At nineteen years old Seunghyun had his life all figured out: he would be a bigshot lawyer, just like his father. He’d take care of his mother. And, most importantly, once he left home he would never have to see his half-brother again. He didn’t care what Jiyong’s ambitions were – as far as he could tell the brat’s only goal was to piss him off as much as humanly possible. How was Seunghyun to know that one teenage fight during summer vacation would change the course of their lives forever?*AU saga involving sibling rivalry, coming of age, forbidden love, Seunghyun being a genius and Jiyong being a beautiful and brilliant idol (so, basically himself). Written from both their points of view. Because now GTOP are doing their military service we gotta get our fix somehow!*





	1. BOOK 1: Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story has turned into a monstrous long beast! It spans more than 20 years, from the time Seunghyun is 19 and Jiyong is 16 (I fiddled with the age gaps a bit). I’ve therefore split it into four sections, which you can read or skip according to your personal taste:
> 
> Book 1: Lots of sex, fluffy happy times, mild teenage angst  
> Book 2: Sex, dark times, MAJOR angst  
> Book 3: Less sex but much tension, continued angst, plot  
> Book 4: Sex, mortgages, maturity
> 
> If you want simple fluff ‘n’ smut, stick with Book 1. If you want serious angst and drama, continue to Book 2. If you like things to get dark and have actual plot, power through Book 3. And if you make it past all that without expiring, things get happy again in Book 4!
> 
> *DISCLAIMER: These characters are based on real people but are far removed from their actual lives; they are fictional depictions in an AU setting. That being said, if you are easily triggered or don’t want to see your favourite boys involved in the kind of thing that would turn up in a mild episode of GoT, please skip Books 2 and 3! And check the content tags for anything that squicks you out. I want you to have a nice time reading this fic ^^*

As soon as he saw Jiyong with his date and clocked just how pretty she was, Seunghyun decided he was going to take her. He had only been back for the summer two days, and already he and his half-brother had been in one slanging match and a genuinely vicious fight over the TV remote that only ended when the housekeeper came in to announce dinner and gave them a scolding. Jiyong had clearly been getting uppity while Seunghyun was away. He deserved this.

In any case, thought Seunghyun, pushing wax through his hair to make it stand up, the brat was punching above his weight with this woman. Jiyong was barely sixteen, three years younger than himself, while his date was eighteen if she was a day and so fine she was wasted on that skinny street rat. Oh, Jiyong had looks, of a sort – their father was a handsome man, and the kid’s tramp of a mother must have been some kind of beauty to tempt such an upright guy away from his wife – but he was kidding himself if he thought he had any game compared to Seunghyun.

“So what’s the deal?” Seunghyun asked Soojung the next day. He had spotted her at the bus stop near their house, presumably waiting for his brother, and didn’t she look out of place there! She was pouting cutely – Jiyong must be late, the rude little fuck. So he’d wandered over to introduce himself. “Whatever do you see in that kid?” She smiled at him, an open invitation to take a seat.

“He does street dance with my younger brother.” She shrugged, flipped one shining lock of hair over her shoulder. “I said no at first, of course. He was awfully persistent, though; plus he’s cute.” She gave him a look. “I guess that runs in the family.” Another smile, the same smile everyone gave Seunghyun when they first met him. He was aware that it had nothing to do with his personality but was down to his sheer good looks, which were increasing exponentially now he’d clawed his way past adolescence and dropped some weight.

“Persistence does too,” he told her, leaning in a bit. Soojung blinked; Seunghyun saw her pupils dilate.

“Jiyong never mentioned he had a brother,” she said. Seunghyun was not a bit surprised at that.

“I’ve been away at college.” She nodded encouragingly. “Pre-Law,” he added, because a little bragging couldn’t hurt. “Following my dad.”

“Oh, yes? Cool. My uncle’s an attorney, actually.” He sensed another slight thawing, and went for it.

“How about coming out with me?” he asked. “Let’s talk some more. I know some nice places to eat, and I can get us into this club after.”

“I can’t,” she said, sounding vaguely scandalized, though he knew it was just an act. “I’ve got a date with your brother!”

Seunghyun hated it when people used that word to describe Jiyong; as far as he was concerned the brat’s coming to live with them had been no better than a home invasion, one that had essentially forced his own mother to leave in order to maintain her self-respect. Four years hadn’t been enough to reconcile Seunghyun to the fact that this common punk was his own flesh and blood.

“Tomorrow, then,” he said persuasively. Soojung shuffled a smidge closer. Seunghyun slid his hand along the back of her seat and lowered his voice. “Come on, huh? I want to get to know you. And someone like you deserves treating like a lady.” He saw the moment she decided.

“…All right. Just…you won’t be mean to him about it, right? He’s a nice kid.”

“Give me your number,” Seunghyun replied, ignoring that – he would make no promises when it came to Jiyong. He let her type it into his phone; she smelled like vanilla.

“Ah! There he is!” said Soojung in a low tone that already promised intimacy. She gave him a subtle push. Flirtatious. “You’d better go.” Seunghyun glanced up and spotted Jiyong jogging down the street. The kid stopped and peered in their direction, all skinny limbs and scruffy jeans.

“All right.” Seunghyun got smoothly to his feet and gave her one of his best smiles; she returned it double. “Don’t go back on your word, now!” Soojung shook her gorgeous head and then bent it to fix her attention on her phone. He could tell she was blushing.

Seunghyun deliberately chose a path that would intersect with Jiyong’s. The brat was approaching his date again, more slowly now, and the thunderous look on his small face told Seunghyun exactly what he thought of Soojung chatting with his big brother.

“Hey,” snapped Jiyong, striding up to Seunghyun and getting right up in his face, or as far as he could what with being so short. “Back off!”

“Back off what?” demanded the older boy calmly, raising his top lip in a sculpted sneer. Jiyong didn’t retreat – he never had, not since he was fourteen or so. Seunghyun supposed he ought to respect such a display of balls, but the kid’s lack of humility or awareness of his position just pissed him off further.

“My girl!” Jiyong snarled in his high teenage voice. “Go play with your dumb private-school friends and leave us alone.”

“And what delights have you got planned for her this evening?” inquired Seunghyun. It was much more fun if he didn’t get angry; Jiyong was making a fool of himself. “McDonalds? School disco?” Jiyong flushed under the light golden sheen of his skin, and Seunghyun snorted. “Whatever,” he continued. “Shut the damn door quietly when you come in. Dad’s got court in the morning.”

“I know perfectly well what _my_ dad’s doing,” Jiyong spat.

“Yeah, well, if you wake him up I’ll stick your head down the toilet and flush it.” Seunghyun ignored the finger Jiyong gave him, butted the kid out of the way with his shoulder and walked on. Summer vacation might be more fun than he had thought.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the next week Seunghyun took Soojung out three times. He was enjoying himself – he had no problems entertaining such an attractive girl, even if she wasn’t much in the brain department – but it hadn’t yet had the effect he was hoping for. Seunghyun was under no illusions about his motive in starting this fling: it was simply to antagonise his brother; to hurt him if he could. He figured Jiyong was probably too young and shallow for any of it to really stick; nevertheless, he made sure his evenings out with Soojung included a pass through the punk’s territory in the city centre, where he and his wannabe bad-boy friends hung out. So far no luck, but it was just a matter of time.

“What the hell is _this_ shit?!”

Ah. And there it was. His luck was turning. Seunghyun paused outside the cinema, the one round the corner from the skate park, and looped his arm firmly around Soojung’s waist. He felt her tense up against him at the sound of Jiyong’s aggrieved voice, but this wasn’t about her. He held on.

‘Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?” Jiyong appeared in front of them, small fists clenched and his white teeth bared. He looked absolutely furious, and Seunghyun experienced a wave of petty satisfaction at the sight. The kid was wearing his usual hip-hop wannabe uniform: torn jeans, baggy tshirt, baseball cap turned backwards; Seunghyun had no idea if Jiyong could actually rap, and felt additionally smug in the knowledge that he himself could, albeit on the sly in his dorm. Jiyong looked like what he was: a schoolkid trying to act tough, and Seunghyun just bet that Soojung was making a mental comparison right now between the two of them.

“I can explain,” began Soojung, from under Seunghyun’s arm. She didn’t sound cruel, but she didn’t sound ashamed, either; more like a woman trying gently to tell something difficult to a child.

“Don’t bother!” said Jiyong before she could, and to Seunghyun’s amazement the brat sounded like he might cry. Jiyong gulped down a huge breath, his dark eyes suspiciously damp, but held himself back. Seunghyun wasn’t sure who he was trying to kid: him, or the gaggle of equally low-grade shadows at Jiyong’s back that he called his friends. They were watching the confrontation with open mouths. Seunghyun had been quite happy to let them – anything that took his half-brother down a peg was okay in his book – but their presence was stopping Jiyong from really going to town.

“…I want to talk to you,” said Jiyong, through gritted teeth. “Now.” He shot Soojung a look, then glared back at Seunghyun. “Alone.”

“This is my fault too,” Soojung put in.

“No.” The kid didn’t take his eyes off Seunghyun. “This is gonna get ugly. And it isn’t about you. It’s about _him_.” Seunghyun felt appropriately flattered at that; finally, Jiyong was taking him seriously. Maybe after this he’d get some damn respect. He slid his arm from around Soojung’s shoulders and ran it caressingly down her back. Just to make the little weasel angrier. He was starting to feel it now: the buzz he got from the prospect of a good fight, and especially from pissing off Jiyong.

“You want to smack me, brat?” he asked tauntingly, and stood clear of her. “Then you gotta catch me.”

And with that he was running, like he was no better than a kid himself, and that high was spreading a stupid grin across his face. Adrenaline pumping through him, he heard Jiyong spit a curse after him and take off in his direction. This was better than dating. This was better than almost anything.

 

Seunghyun allowed Jiyong to catch up with him in a quiet backstreet; no need to make a scene or get the police involved. Some start to his law career that would be. The kid was almost on his heels, anyway, silent behind him until he started panting but still moving with that whiplash grace Seunghyun in no way envied.

He had barely turned round when Jiyong hit him, a closed fist rather than the open-handed smacks of their earlier fights. It caught Seunghyun upside the head and snapped it sideways. Then Jiyong was advancing on him breathlessly, and when Seunghyun could see straight he was again surprised to spot as much pain as rage in the younger boy’s black eyes. Jiyong pushed him viciously, but Seunghyun had recovered now and was bigger, and chose not to move. Instead he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Jiyong’s collar, hauling the kid towards him until it almost ripped.

“Hit me again and I will _end_ you,” he promised. Jiyong didn’t resist but kept coming, standing on tiptoe to stick his face in Seunghyun’s in a move that signalled total aggression.

“Why did you do that?” Jiyong growled, thumping him painfully in the chest. “She was _mine_!”

“If you can’t keep her,” Seunghyun snarled back, debating whether to headbutt him, “you don’t deserve to have her.”

“You take _everything_ from me!” cried Jiyong accusingly, and his tone was so unmistakably earnest that Seunghyun found himself astonished and offended like he had never been before.

“ _Me_?” He let go of Jiyong’s shirt to grab his neck, hard. “You spoiled little shit! Who’s the one who came and took _my_ family from me and my mom? My _life_? Huh?!” He gave him a disbelieving shake. Oh, this wasn’t fun anymore. Now he was truly angry, years of hints and snide side-comments suddenly bursting out in the open. Never had he told Jiyong so baldly what he thought of him.

“ _That’s not my fault!_ ” Jiyong yelled, remarkably loudly given the grip on his throat. “We never…I never meant to! I _tried_ to make it better, I…But you are one fucking mean _bastard_!!”

“ _Who’s_ the bastard?” retorted Seunghyun snidely before he could think better of it. He just had time to see the tears spill over onto Jiyong’s cheeks before the kid took the initiative and smashed his forehead into Seunghyun’s, knocking him back.

“I hate you!!” spat Jiyong, and burst out crying.

“ _Ditto_ ,” promised Seunghyun, and went for him again, catching him by both arms to immobilise him. He had no idea what he was going to do next; hit him, he supposed. Dammit, they were going to be in _so_ much trouble; but it was too late now.

Seunghyun stared frantically down at his unwanted, struggling little brother and waited for inspiration to strike. But the sight left him muddled and unsure of himself. He vividly recalled the day he had first seen that face, and how his life had immediately started crumbling around him due to its existence. Now it was streaked with furious tears, spilling from beneath Jiyong’s lashes to track down his flushed cheeks, still round with puppy fat. Those features in themselves were no less hateful, but the expression on them was so genuinely unhappy…

Seunghyun found himself staring with an intensity that bothered him and bit a hole somewhere deep in his stomach. As if feeling it on his skin Jiyong looked up and met his gaze with much the same expression of loathing and confusion. Seunghyun _hated_ him, hated that face that so obviously resembled his homewrecking mother, its sly, girlish beauty that wrapped people – wrapped their father – round his little finger; those dark, familiar eyes that were glaring at him so accusingly, and what was that in them, that terrified gleam? Suddenly Seunghyun couldn’t breathe, because with that look a sense of recognition passed between them, and he knew Jiyong was as lost and scared as he was.

Jiyong leaned up towards him, the makings of another violent move, and Seunghyun tightened his grip on his narrow shoulders warningly. Then Jiyong’s face was close to his; they’d been confronting each other like this in fights all through their adolescence, and he couldn’t figure out why it was different until he realized he was pulling Jiyong in to him. The next second Jiyong’s mouth crashed into his.

Seunghyun couldn’t think who had started it – he couldn’t think at all, not one synapse was firing – but that hardly mattered because they were _kissing_. Jiyong was kissing him, clumsily and with total abandon, his slim fingers wound tight in Seunghyun’s shirt, and Seunghyun had somehow taken Jiyong’s head in both hands and was returning his caress quite desperately. Jiyong moaned and his pretty lips parted, that cocky little mouth Seunghyun had always hated; the heat of him was dizzying. Seunghyun tipped Jiyong’s head back to kiss him harder; suddenly it seemed the only thing in the world he could possibly want to do. Jiyong’s body against him was as thrilling and belligerent as a fistfight.

Eventually he had to breathe. Seunghyun lifted his head for a split second, but it was long enough for Jiyong to give a cry of dismay, tear himself from Seunghyun’s grasp and hare off down the alley, leaving his baseball cap spinning in the road. Seunghyun stood staring dumbly after him, panting as if he had run a marathon instead of a ten-minute jaunt through the backstreets. A feeling too big and too full of dread to make sense of was threatening to rise up through his chest and engulf him, so he grit his teeth and shut it down, shut everything down; everything but the lingering sensation of Jiyong’s lips on his. He wiped his mouth convulsively with the back of his hand. It didn’t wipe the feeling away. Seunghyun returned his trembling limb to his side, and stood there gazing at the space where his brother had been. He didn’t notice when it began to rain.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong came home late after finally getting himself under control, too late to know whether Seunghyun had preceded him or not. He didn’t sleep at all, but when he made his way groggily out of his room the next morning he found everyone had left without him noticing; his father was still on his big court case, and what with the school holidays the housekeeper hadn’t bothered to wake him.

He had a headache. He found just enough steam to make it downstairs and microwave himself a coffee, then spill some cereal haphazardly into a bowl. He couldn’t eat it, he realised. He felt sick. And the thing that troubled him the most was not what had happened last night but his own reaction to it. Jiyong was a self-centred child, his brother was right about that, and remarkably self-aware. He knew, deep down, that the shaking in his hands and the faint nausea in his stomach were not from shame, or disgust. They were from excitement.

Oh, he had regrets, of course. He regretted running, leaving Seunghyun there in the rain. Jiyong hated to back down, and that was what it had looked like: a retreat. The jerk had the moral high ground now! But he’d been frightened at how _good_ it felt to have the older boy’s lips on his; to have Seunghyun hold him so convulsively, despite knowing how much he detested him. He knew it wasn’t right. And now, in the cool air-conditioned light of day, he found he didn’t care.

Jiyong retreated upstairs, leaving a mess behind him, and holed himself up in his room. He left the door ajar. He tried to write something, some lyrics that would express what he was feeling – an emotion so new and flattening he had no name for it – but he couldn’t. So he gave up, and sat huddled on his bed watching the sun move across into afternoon. He could hear the housekeeper downstairs, clearing up his dishes. He wondered if Seunghyun would ever come home, or if he would flee straight back to his dorm for the summer and put as much distance between himself and this crisis as humanly possible.

A soft tread on the stairs gave him the answer; he could practically feel his pulse accelerate as the sound registered. It might just be Chan-mi, but she was never that quiet. Jiyong got to his feet and crept to the door. Their bedrooms were as far away from each other as possible – their father’s design, once he had resigned himself to the fact that his sons would never get along – but Seunghyun would still have to walk past him to get to his own. Jiyong took a deep breath and opened the door wide.

“Oh!” Seunghyun was standing in the hall outside, wearing old jeans and a zipped sports jacket. His face was bruised and he looked very odd – like he wanted to run but was being held there by something invisible – and very tired. For once in his life Jiyong thought he might be more in control than the older boy. It was a liberating idea.

“Seunghyun,” said Jiyong hesitantly, and heard his brother take a harsh breath. He reached out carefully and touched his wrist, then curled his fingers around it once he was sure Seunghyun wasn’t going to hit him. Jiyong reflected in amazement that this might be the first time the two of them had ever made contact without any intent to hurt. Unless you counted last night; but he didn’t know what that had been, and it was clear Seunghyun didn’t either. “Come in here. Please.”

Seunghyun followed him as if his touch was hypnotic. Jiyong reached across and pushed the door to deliberately. Seunghyun blinked, and looked down at him like he had never seen him before, his goddamn perfect face almost dazed. His hand was shivering beneath Jiyong’s fingers.

“About yesterday,” began Jiyong quietly. A flash of panic crossed Seunghyun’s handsome features, and Jiyong bit his own lip to keep himself on track. Seunghyun’s large eyes focused on his mouth; the younger boy saw him swallow. “…I started it,” said Jiyong. As a matter of fact he couldn’t remember clearly; the whole thing was like some fever dream. But it must have been him, because of how Seunghyun hated him. And how Jiyong felt now. “But I’m not sorry.”

He saw Seunghyun open his mouth to say something, and whatever it was it would be sure to hurt. So Jiyong reached up with his free hand and set his fingers to the nape of Seunghyun’s neck. Tangling them in the fine hair there he drew Seunghyun’s head down; he paused for an instant to push away the enormity of what they were doing. Then he kissed him, a closed-mouthed, no-nonsense kiss.

“Jiyong…” came his brother’s deep voice, and it sounded like both a warning and a wish. His fingers tightened on Jiyong’s.

“I want to,” murmured Jiyong, not letting go. “Don’t tell me you don’t.” Seunghyun sighed deeply, and closed his fine eyes as if physically pained. Then he set his hands lightly to Jiyong’s shoulders – such large hands, Seunghyun was an adult now, near enough, and enviably tall – and walked him backwards to sit him down on the edge of the bed.

“…This is insane,” said Seunghyun with conviction.

“I don’t care,” countered Jiyong, equally earnest. Seunghyun was so close to him, for once without aggression, and if there was any strangeness here for Jiyong it was that.

“Just yesterday I stole your girlfriend, and you wanted to beat me stupid,” went on Seunghyun, presumably trying to sound reasonable. It was undermined by how near he sat, the way Jiyong could feel his gaze moving over him.

“I don’t care.”

“That’s not an argument,” said Seunghyun, obviously desperate. His eyes came to rest on Jiyong’s lips again.

“I’m a lowlife teenage brat,” Jiyong reminded him sweetly, picking some of his brother’s most well-used insults; they still stung. “What do I care from arguments?”

“You _are_ ,” agreed Seunghyun wholeheartedly. Then he took him in his arms and kissed him.

“Mmm!” Jiyong couldn’t suppress a moan at the sensation, and wished his voice was a little more butch. But it felt too intense for any kind of acting, especially when the sound prompted the bigger boy to tighten his embrace and pull him closer. Jiyong hitched an excited breath, wound his arms around Seunghyun’s neck and kissed him harder.

“…Slow down!” whispered Seunghyun against his mouth, after a minute; his hands were moving possessively across Jiyong’s back.

“If you think you can back out now,” Jiyong informed him savagely, “you can think again.”

“No,” said Seunghyun, and took him by the chin to look down at him. He sighed at whatever he saw there, and Jiyong found himself preening under his former adversary’s admiration. He supposed he was rather vain. “I mean, take it easy. Kiss me properly.”

“I know how to kiss!” muttered Jiyong, fighting down a shiver at the instruction, uttered as it was in his brother’s effortlessly low voice. Did Seunghyun honestly think he was a kid? Jiyong had _game_. He’d been _this_ close to going all the way with Soojung. Well, almost this close. Seunghyun gave him an annoyingly superior lift of his eyebrow.

“No you don’t. Come here.” He slid one arm round Jiyong’s waist and with an irritating lack of effort tipped him onto his back. Jiyong wriggled uncomfortably, Macbook and discarded accessories and pens digging into his spine, and looked up to see Seunghyun staring at him with a bizarre mixture of hubris and unadulterated _want_. He stilled under that look, then reached up as his brother leaned over him, parting his lips and his arms eagerly.

“Slow,” said Seunghyun hoarsely. “Close your eyes.” Jiyong obeyed grudgingly, and felt the brush of Seunghyun’s mouth against his, so light he thought he might have imagined it. He made an impatient little noise, and felt more than heard Seunghyun laugh. There it was again, the faint touch of Seunghyun’s tongue, nudging his mouth open. Then the soft caress of lips again, and again.

“…Like so?” murmured Jiyong, mirroring him carefully.

“Yeah,” breathed Seunghyun, sounding strange. Jiyong opened one eye a crack and saw Seunghyun’s stunning features at close range, his beautiful eyelashes – such a waste on him – fluttering closed. He felt the older boy’s strong fingers slip beneath his neck to support him, so he set both hands to his face and began to explore it as Seunghyun kissed him. Really, his brother was a lucky bastard; someone with his personality certainly didn’t deserve such looks. But Jiyong was hardly going to complain at this point.

“You’re quick.” Seunghyun sounded approving now.

“…I’m not an idiot,” Jiyong told him between kisses. “Even if I’m not in law school.”

“Shut up.” Abruptly Seunghyun was above him, lean body hovering directly over his, tantalisingly close. He gave Jiyong a proper kiss, and Jiyong shut up all right, experiencing a blaze of anticipation that made him wrap both arms around Seunghyun’s back and drag him down harder. He almost gasped with surprise: the sensation of Seunghyun’s weight pressing him into the bed was so unexpectedly delicious that he could only hold on and try to get closer.

Seunghyun growled pleasurably above him, and even that stood the hair up on Jiyong’s arms. The next thing he knew Seunghyun’s thumb was in the hollow below his pointed chin, nudging it up so he could plant a line of enthusiastic kisses along Jiyong’s jaw and down his throat. Jiyong’s lips parted again on a soft moan.

“Quietly,” Seunghyun warned him, against the base of his neck. His hands were travelling luxuriously down Jiyong’s back, now sliding to skim a thumb tentatively across one small nipple, over the younger boy’s shirt.

“ _More_ ,” murmured Jiyong pleadingly, extending the sound into a quiet whine. He felt Seunghyun shiver against him.

“I’m serious.” Seunghyun kissed him on the mouth again to stop him talking. Jiyong pressed up against him, wanting to get close, closer, his fingers now on the zip of his brother’s jacket. Seunghyun let out a low rumble, deep in his throat, and leaned into his touch. Then -

“Jiyong!” came a voice that belonged to neither of them, from the foot of the staircase. Jiyong barely heard Chan-mi calling to him, he was so enraptured by the feeling of the body above him; but his brother jumped like he’d been shot, and froze.

“What?!” he managed, trying not to sound too ridiculously aroused.

“Your father’s due back in fifteen minutes,” the housekeeper informed him at the top of her voice. “Dinner in thirty! If you don’t want me in your room, come and take your things upstairs. I’m not your slave!”

“Christ,” muttered Seunghyun, who was not usually much of a blasphemer. He sat up, too hurriedly for Jiyong, who was feeling languorous and giddy and – he now realized – extremely, visibly, horny. Seunghyun darted a look at him, blushed a startling red, and tugged a pillow into his own lap. Jiyong bit his lip; he wanted to touch him, _now_.

“For fuck’s sake, go on,” said Seunghyun urgently. “Unless you want her up here.”

“Like this?” Jiyong laughed, saw Seunghyun’s pupils dilate at the thought of what they might have done had they not been interrupted. “I’ll go once I’m in a state that won’t have her yelling for the cops. And you’d better get out, too.” He aimed one hungry glance at his brother, and tried to imbue it with the unspoken contract that they would do this again. He wasn’t sure if Seunghyun still hated him, but he was fairly confident that this new terrible desire would help outweigh it. He hoped.

 

All through dinner Seunghyun ignored Jiyong. He could sense the younger boy looking at him, but refused to meet his eyes or speak to him. It was the only safe thing to do; it was taking every bit of his concentration to avoid picturing Jiyong’s small body beneath him, replaying the sweet sounds he had made less than an hour ago in the room just over their heads. This meant it was pretty much business as usual at the dinner table, where not talking to each other was the absolute best behaviour their father could hope for. Though when Seunghyun deigned to sit on the same sofa as Jiyong it was apparently worthy of comment.

“It’s nice to see you two getting on,” said their father pointedly, eyeing his recalcitrant sons over the top of his newspaper. Jiyong scowled down at his Nintendo DS and pushed his cherubic underlip out in a sulky expression that normally drove Seunghyun nuts. This time it didn’t, probably because it was so blatantly fake. Seunghyun hoped he wasn’t blushing like Jiyong was right now.

“How’s the trial going?” he asked hurriedly, and their father gave him an approving smile.

“All I can say is thank the lord it’s the weekend.”

“Oh yes,” said Seunghyun feebly, and wondered if he could possibly get through two days with their father in the house; two days in which he could not, under any circumstances, touch Jiyong. He flicked his gaze quickly towards his brother, and knew he was thinking the same thing. This was going to be the longest weekend of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was the catalyst for this entire massive fic the sexy fight scene in the Haru Haru MV? Yes, Other Barry, yes it was XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun tries to be sensible, and fails entirely.

The next day their father settled down in the garden with his legal briefs and a beer, fully intent on enjoying his time off. Jiyong hadn’t emerged from his room by midday, and thinking about what he could be doing in there – what they might do together if he just knocked on the door – was driving Seunghyun crazy. Knowing he was there was quite unbearable. So Seunghyun gathered up his textbooks and headed for the library.

Soojung had messaged him once or twice, but was apparently cooling on the whole thing after both her romantic interests had abandoned her in the middle of the street and not come back. Seunghyun found he couldn’t summon up much regret, but still jumped every time his phone buzzed. He knew he was hoping it was Jiyong, stupid though that was; as a matter of fact, he didn’t think Jiyong even had his contact details. Up to this point, communicating with his sibling had been so far down his list of priorities he hadn’t even thought to ask.

“Give me your number,” he said casually that evening as he was setting up the Go board at their father’s request. “Might as well have it just in case.”

“You astonish me,” commented their father from his armchair, while Jiyong warily tapped the digits into his phone. Seunghyun knew very well that the antagonism between them had been a constant disappointment to the man, and he was sorry for that because, in all other areas, he was a pretty damn perfect son. But really, what did he expect, bringing his illegitimate kid into the family home and asking them to accept him? All right, Jiyong’s mother had just died; with hindsight and in light of his new charitable mood towards his half-brother, Seunghyun admitted that maybe their father had had no options. But what about _his_ mother? Didn’t she count?

Seunghyun aimed a glare at Jiyong, more out of habit than anything else, and realized that he still resented him bitterly. The kid seemed oblivious, straightening up the Go markers into neat rows, his pretty baby face solemn with concentration. Christ, Seunghyun wanted him. How could this have _happened_?! he thought miserably. How to reconcile these wildly conflicting emotions? He experienced a rush of disgust at himself, and tamped it down to think about later; their father was beckoning him to the board.

He got his ass roundly kicked that night, and no wonder. Jiyong lounged on the sofa with a music magazine and watched them play – he was hopeless at Go himself but liked to root for their dad, both because he was sincerely attached to him and because he’d do anything to spite Seunghyun. This time Jiyong kept quiet. Seunghyun could feel him watching; it was terribly distracting.

In the end he forfeited and went to bed. It didn’t help a lot, knowing that his brother was right there down the hall. Jiyong would invite him in if he knocked, he knew it. And then what?

“Ugh.” Seunghyun flopped onto his back. He had to fix this. Before one of them did something stupid.

 

* * *

 

 

So on Sunday Seunghyun went to church. It got him out of the house, and the familiar service calmed him down a bit; it had been a long time since he had last prayed. He felt better until he saw the vicar chatting with members of the congregation after. The mere thought of it sent all the blood to his face and he had to leave before his father’s friends started asking him what was wrong. He couldn’t go see his mother, she was visiting friends in Japan. He wandered disconsolately round the streets for a bit, then went home.

When he got back Jiyong was out, too. That was a relief. Seunghyun fixed lunch for his father, just to show him how self-sufficient dorm life had made him. He loved it when the man looked at him proudly; it had become more and more important to him ever since Jiyong had come to live with them, and even now he was a grown-up he couldn’t shake off the need for evidence of his father’s approval.

Seunghyun was studying when his bedroom door opened and Jiyong’s head appeared, hair held back from his face with a girl’s alice band. It was getting untidily long, thought Seunghyun; he wanted to run his fingers through it and pull it and…all kinds of things.

“No,” said Seunghyun immediately. “You can’t come in, not with Dad here. We can’t…”

“I know we can’t,” replied Jiyong in a low voice. “Obviously. I just…figured we could talk.”

“About what?” said Seunghyun suspiciously. The kid had never exhibited an urge to talk to him before, and he certainly wasn’t up for a discussion of what they did the other day or might do again in the future.

“Anything.” Jiyong looked at him plaintively. So Seunghyun nodded, against his better judgement.

“Leave the door ajar,” he ordered. He pointed to the desk chair. “Go sit over there.” Jiyong perched himself cross-legged on the seat.

“Well?” Seunghyun kept his eyes firmly on the comforting boredom of his textbook.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” said Jiyong.

“Isn’t that for the best?” countered Seunghyun quickly. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say to this delicious little creature that had somehow disguised itself as his least favourite person in the world.

“…Do you still hate me?” Seunghyun had to look up at that, Jiyong sounded so odd. The boy was watching him carefully, hands clasped in his lap.

“About as much as you hate me, I expect,” said Seunghyun shortly, evading the question.

“I never hated you,” Jiyong told him. Seunghyun snorted in disbelief. “I didn’t,” his brother assured him in a wounded tone. “Not ‘til you made it clear how much you loathed _me_.” Seunghyun raised his eyebrows coldly. “That took quite a long time,” continued Jiyong. “I’m pretty embarrassed at just how long. But I’m not smart like you; besides, I was what, twelve? Thirteen by the time I really got the point.”

“What was the point?”

“That I ruined your life,” said Jiyong simply, and Seunghyun blinked. The honesty of it was disarming, and something he had never expected from this interloper. “And you were gonna punish me for it every day we lived under the same roof.” Seunghyun did the safest thing, which was to maintain silence. “But I don’t _want_ to go my whole life being punished by you,” Jiyong managed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t deserve it!”

“Well what did you expect?” snapped out Seunghyun without meaning to, and once he had started there was no stopping. “Acceptance? Think about it: Completely out of the blue we find out that my dad’s got a whole secret family, that he’s been cheating on my mom since the beginning, and _on the same day_ I hear my ‘new brother’ is coming to live with us! Twenty-four hours and I lose the dad I thought I knew, I lose my mom to the divorce court, and I’m saddled with _you_!”

“I lost my mom too,” said Jiyong quietly. Seunghyun paused and rubbed at the fading bruise on his forehead.

“…I know,” he admitted. “I know it was worse for you, now.” Jiyong gave him a small, pained smile. “But you were still her son,” Seunghyun continued. Well, if they were being honest… “And _she stole my father_.”

“I didn’t know,” said Jiyong. He sounded angry, though Seunghyun was not sure at whom. “They didn’t _tell_ me, and I never figured it out while she was alive. I mean, I knew they weren’t married, but I never thought about why, ‘cos our life was pretty much normal. He was away a lot, but he’s a bigshot lawyer; I didn’t know all those times he was with his _real_ family!”

“Really,” retorted Seunghyun sceptically, but he believed him; Jiyong was leaning forward, eyes wide and linked palms facing up like he was petitioning the older boy.

“Swear to god,” said Jiyong, “I didn’t know. Not ‘til you told me, and even when you did I was too young to really feel the guilt.” He took a deep, shaky breath and his eyes turned shiny. “But believe me, I’ve felt it every damn day for the last three years. You made sure of that!”

Seunghyun felt the uncomfortable pang of sympathy again, same as the other night when his brother had burst into tears in front of him. He recognised what it was now.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said grudgingly. Jiyong shook his head and gave an incredulous little laugh, wiping his eyes on the cuff of his sleeve. “But there you were. And that was just the start of it.” He closed his textbook. “You think I’d hate you that much just for existing?”

“Yes,” retorted Jiyong immediately.

“No,” Seunghyun told him. “The fact is, you’ve been a fucking brat since the day I laid eyes on you. Everything you do around me, everything you say is meant to piss me off, isn’t it?” Jiyong was staring at him with his mouth open. “Especially with Dad. God, he spoils you rotten and you don’t do _anything_ to deserve it!”

“…You think he loves me more.” Jiyong was looking at him like he was mad. “Don’t you!”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” said Seunghyun bitterly. Jiyong started laughing again and slapped a hand over his mouth, glancing towards the open door.

“You’re…you’re supposed to be the smart one!” exclaimed Jiyong when he could speak properly. “How can you not see you’re the favourite?!”

“You must be joking.” The kid shook his head.

“I’ve spent _four years_ trying to hold his attention. But look what I’m up against! Is it any wonder I get frustrated with you?”

“Me?”

“Don’t play dumb, of course you!” Jiyong pointed an accusing finger in his direction. “You’re fucking _perfect_ : you got the brain, the grades, the looks, the legitimacy…I wanted to be like you so much. When I was still a kid. I wanted you to…” He shrugged.

“…He still spoils you,” argued Seunghyun, groping for something sensible to say. “You only have to ask for something and he gets it for you! Daddy’s little prince, aren’t you.”

“But he’s _proud_ of _you_.” Jiyong spoke with finality. “You’re the one who matters. You’re the one who’ll do things.” He sighed. “I never hated you. I just _hate_ that I have you to live up to.”

“Why didn’t you ever say so?!” Seunghyun demanded angrily. “Why act like such a…”

“Because you behave like a complete son of a bitch,” Jiyong said in a miserable voice. “When could I possibly tell you? It’s either give you back as good as I get or lie down under you; there’s no other way with you.” Seunghyun coughed and felt himself go red. “…That’s not what I meant,” Jiyong told him with a faint grin. He leaned forward confidentially. “But if it’ll help you act like a decent human being I’ll be happy to get on my back for you.”

“Don’t change the subject!” said Seunghyun in a hurry. His glasses were beginning to steam up. “And keep your voice down.”

“All right,” Jiyong replied. He sobered up. “All I’m saying is that I don’t hate you. Much. And I’d really like it if you’d be civil to me, because it would make our dad happy. And because I want you.”

Seunghyun just nodded dumbly. He was having trouble taking it all in; there was far too much to chew over here, from Jiyong’s incredible confession to his viewpoint on their father. But he couldn’t focus on any of it, not after that final sentence. Jiyong looked so lovely sitting there, his round face solemn and without its usual mocking expression. Like he really wanted Seunghyun to be kind to him. Seunghyun knew that if the house had been empty he would go over there, grab Jiyong and kiss him breathless. Instead he frowned and held out his hand.

“Come here.” His brother obeyed immediately, and that in itself was almost a miracle. Seunghyun waited for him to get the point. Jiyong stared at his hand for a minute, puzzled, then tentatively shook it. His fingers were small in Seunghyun’s grip. Without meaning to the older boy lifted Jiyong’s hand to his mouth and pressed his lips against his knuckles; he raised his eyes at Jiyong’s gasp, and the kid’s face was a picture. It felt good, decided Seunghyun, to surprise him. Actually, it just felt good to touch him. Far too good.

“Out you go now,” said Seunghyun huskily, before he could do something dumb. “See you at dinner.” Jiyong looked at him, not letting go. “Tomorrow,” Seunghyun promised him, and the boy gave him the bright, bright smile he reserved for their father. He sashayed out of the room and shut the door behind him. Seunghyun sighed; he was exhausted already, and he hadn’t even allowed himself to really think about this yet. And there were hours and hours until tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun woke up at ten on Monday morning, and immediately felt butterflies in his stomach. Today. Unless he was sensible, unless he put a stop to it, he would have Jiyong in his arms again today. He tried to put it out of his mind for the time being because there was no way his brother would be awake yet; it was difficult enough trying not to get hard just thinking about him.

He could hear the faint sound of the washer from the far side of the house; Chan-mi must be here already. Seunghyun got out of bed, put on his usual jeans and long-sleeved tshirt like today was a perfectly normal day, and went downstairs to talk to her.

An hour later his phone lit up.

 _Tabi_ , said Jiyong’s message, _I’m awake. Come say good morning_. The lazy brat, thought Seunghyun, his heart flip-flopping, and immediately made his way upstairs. None of the bedrooms had locks, and Jiyong apparently thought knocking was something that happened to other people, so Seunghyun opened the door and went right in.

“Tabi?” was the first thing he said. Jiyong gave him a sunny smile from the bed.

“Okay, _hyung_ , then?”

“Oh, that’s too creepy, you’ve never called me that in your life!”

“How about _oppa_?” asked Jiyong in a cute little voice, winking at him.

“Ugh!”

“Tabi it is, then,” Jiyong told him happily. “It suits you.”

“You’re very weird.”

“Apparently,” said Jiyong, and held out his hand. “Are you gonna say good morning or not?”

“Chan-mi’s coming up to clean the bathrooms,” Seunghyun informed him. It was hard trying to hide his frustration, but there was no reason for Jiyong to know just how much he had been looking forward to this.

“Oh,” said Jiyong; and suddenly the pout that had always made Seunghyun want to punch him seemed quite charming. “Well you can at least kiss me, can’t you?”

“Nope.” Jiyong sighed and leaned back against the headboard.

“Fine.” He waggled his foot under the covers. “Come sit and have a chat, then.”

Seunghyun gave in, and approached with caution – the floor was a minefield of clothing hiding who knew what underneath. He perched himself at the end of the bed, well away from the younger boy’s reach.

“You know this place is a health hazard,” he said primly. Jiyong rolled his eyes. “What do you do in here all day?”

“Homework?”

“Yeah, my ass.” Jiyong was looking at him so happily; could a simple conversation really please him this much? Seunghyun didn’t get it.

“I write,” amended Jiyong, hesitantly.

“Write what?” That was a surprise. Seunghyun had heard the boy’s grades were nothing to boast about, and up to now had found the fact most satisfying. Jiyong was blushing a bit; it was a dangerously inviting sight.

“Lyrics. For rap or whatever, you know?”

“Really!”

“Yeah, I write all the time.”

“Can I see?” asked Seunghyun. He was intrigued. Jiyong paused and looked at him shyly.

“…No. Not yet.”

“Why? Is it all bashing me?”

“No!” Jiyong exclaimed. “Jeez, vain much? I just…well. Not yet.” Seunghyun got it: Jiyong didn’t trust him. Which was fair enough. He gave his brother a tolerant smile and patted his foot through the covers. Let his fingers linger on Jiyong’s ankle.

“How long is Chan-mi gonna be here?” said Jiyong in a low voice, as Seunghyun began to absently stroke his calf. The older boy looked up sharply; Jiyong’s face was pink, and he had his lip caught between his white teeth.

“She’s doing the grocery shop this afternoon,” Seunghyun told him, his own voice suddenly unsteady.

“Goddammit,” said Jiyong, blasphemous little git that he was. “You’d better go, Tabi. Come get me later…when we’re alone.”

Seunghyun nodded, swallowed heavily, and hurried out.

 

“…She’s gone,” Seunghyun told Jiyong a torturous eternity later, running into him as he came up the stairs.

“I know,” said Jiyong shortly. He had got dressed in the meantime and evidently spent some time grooming himself. Narcissistic brat, thought Seunghyun, appreciating the result. “I heard the car go.” Jiyong set his hand to Seunghyun’s chest and pushed him unresisting down the hall. “Your room,” he said urgently. Seunghyun raised his eyebrows and Jiyong gave him such a wicked smile; nobody his age should be able to smile like that. “Your bed’s bigger.”

“Fuck.” Seunghyun wrapped one arm round Jiyong’s small waist and sped him up. He’d thought it might be awkward, starting this again after days of behaving properly; he’d thought one of them might come to their senses. But Jiyong slid against him so perfectly, like he was meant to fit there. “She’s coming back in like an hour,” Seunghyun warned him.

“Well,” said Jiyong, with another grin, “as long as _I_ come before then…”

Where did he _get_ this stuff? Seunghyun wondered, feeling all the blood leave his brain and head south. The TV? It was quite shocking in a kid his age. But that was all the thinking he had time for; before they had even reached his room Jiyong stopped smiling and stretched up to kiss him. Seunghyun found it hard to stifle his own moan as he took the boy’s head in both hands and kissed him back hungrily. Jiyong made a pleased noise and kicked the bedroom door shut with one foot as they stumbled into it, his arms around Seunghyun’s neck. When Seunghyun broke off to breathe Jiyong was looking up at him like he was the best thing that ever happened; he was positively starry-eyed. It wasn’t just arousal – there was something else.

Seunghyun remembered then what Jiyong had said yesterday, about not hating him, about looking up to him. He paused with an effort.

“What is it?” asked the boy breathlessly. Seunghyun put his hands on Jiyong’s shoulders and made eye contact; but he wasn’t too good at reading his younger brother, not yet, anyway.

“I just…have to be sure you know what you’re asking.” Jiyong frowned prettily. “If it’s just my affection you’re after,” said Seunghyun, “there are far safer ways of getting it than this.”

“ _Oh_ ,” said Jiyong, and his expression cleared up. “I do get it. You think I’m too dumb to know what I want.”

“That’s not what I-” Seunghyun began, but stuttered into silence when the smaller boy grabbed him by the belt loops and tugged him flush against his stomach. Jiyong’s hand was warm on his thigh.

“It’s all right, Tabi,” murmured Jiyong in a shadow of his old aggravating tone. That dumb nickname. He grinned. “I don’t just want you for your mind!”

“Okay,” said Seunghyun hoarsely, and pushed him onto the bed. He’d think about this again later, when his brain had re-engaged. For now…

“Come here,” ordered Jiyong, and Seunghyun didn’t need any more telling. He plonked ungracefully down beside him and reached to pull him close. Jiyong began to kiss him, all soft lips and delicate tongue, just like Seunghyun had taught him. “Not like that,” whispered Jiyong, as Seunghyun’s hands began to explore the lines of his small body. “I want you on top of me.” Seunghyun heard himself take a harsh breath; he wasn’t going to last a minute if Jiyong kept saying stuff like that.

Jiyong made an incredible sound as Seunghyun allowed his weight to fall on him, just like a pleased little cat. Seunghyun transferred his lips to the boy’s neck, the skin so smooth and soft it was obvious he had never had to shave in his life. Jiyong’s hands were in his hair, fingers stroking against his scalp as Seunghyun kissed the hollow of his throat. Then they were tugging at the hem of his tshirt, pulling it out of his jeans. When Seunghyun felt Jiyong’s touch against the bare skin of his back he couldn’t stop himself gasping. Jiyong was wrestling the shirt over his head, or trying to. Seunghyun was hit by a pang of his usual shyness – he was sure Jiyong had rarely even seen his bare arms, never mind anything else – but helped his brother out anyway.

“ _Oh_ ,” said Jiyong, once the shirt was off, and the hungry approbation in his tone helped a lot. He ran his slim fingers down Seunghyun’s torso, then up the line of his back. “ _Tabi_.”

“…Is this all right?” demanded Seunghyun worriedly; he didn’t want to do anything Jiyong was not completely okay with. It was bad enough already without rushing the younger boy out of his comfort zone. Jiyong just kissed him where his neck met the curve of his shoulder. Seunghyun felt him inhale, then pull him closer.

“Don’t you want to see me too?” asked Jiyong in a murmur.

“Yes!” Seunghyun choked out, and began to fumble at the buttons of Jiyong’s shirt without success.

“Dumbass.” Jiyong sounded amused, though there was a tremor in his high voice to match Seunghyun’s. “They’re snaps.” He tugged at his collar as he spoke, and the shirt flew open to reveal the smooth golden skin of his chest. He was slim enough to verge on thin, thought Seunghyun, and then didn’t think anymore, just lowered his head to Jiyong’s neck and started his downward path of kisses again. Jiyong’s skin was so warm, a light flush spreading from his throat onto his collarbones. When Seunghyun’s curious fingers brushed his nipple he gasped, so Seunghyun replaced them with his lips. Jiyong moaned unashamedly at that and clutched at the older boy’s hair.

“Ow!” muttered Seunghyun into his skin, but didn’t really care.

“Oh my god,” managed Jiyong, giving him another painful tug, “don’t stop doing that!”

Seunghyun returned to his explorations, seeing how many sounds he could wring out of Jiyong using his lips and his tongue. Jiyong was so responsive, but Seunghyun was too turned on to even be flattered. The boy arched up against his mouth and Seunghyun caught him around the waist, his hands sliding over Jiyong’s hips. Jiyong’s hands were doing something between them, and suddenly Seunghyun’s were gliding down further with no barrier between them and Jiyong’s skin.

“Are you serious?” Seunghyun swallowed hard, and lifted his head. Jiyong was blushing earnestly, but nodded and finished kicking off his pants.

“How much did you think I wanted you?” he said in his sweet, breathless voice. “Enough for a kiss?” He leaned up and brushed his lips teasingly against Seunghyun’s. “I want to feel you _all over_.”

Seunghyun caught his breath at that; Jiyong was quite serious, he decided, after meeting his eyes long enough that the kid flushed an even deeper shade of red. He could barely believe he was allowing himself to do this, that Jiyong was allowing him to; but he couldn’t deny he had been imagining it for days. So he leaned up on his elbow to look.

Oh, he was incredible; Jiyong naked was simply the most arousing thing he had ever seen, and if that thought wasn’t enough to send him straight to Hell he didn’t know what was. He’d worry about that later, he promised himself.

“…Are you just gonna stare?” asked Jiyong, sounding appropriately shy for once.

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun absently. Jiyong was hard, his narrow chest rising and falling rapidly. It was the most seductive sight.

“All right,” countered Jiyong impatiently. He hooked one small hand around the back of Seunghyun’s neck, and slid the other down his own flat stomach to touch himself. Seunghyun hitched in a breath as Jiyong’s hand closed around his erection, and heard Jiyong make the same sound. The younger boy’s eyes slid closed as he began to stroke himself. For a long moment Seunghyun watched him, mesmerised, forgetting to breathe out. Then watching wasn’t enough.

Jiyong groaned luxuriously when Seunghyun’s long fingers joined his own. Seunghyun felt a tug on his neck, and then Jiyong was pulling him down to kiss him, open-mouthed and clumsy as the first time. Seunghyun batted the kid’s hand away and started to touch him properly, cupping Jiyong’s face, which burned beneath his fingers. But when he felt Jiyong’s hands on his stomach going for his belt buckle, he stopped what he was doing in a flash.

“What?” Jiyong looked perplexed as the older boy took hold of his wrists and pushed them away. “You don’t want me to?”

“We can’t!” exclaimed Seunghyun frantically. Jiyong ignored him. “You’re too young!” He couldn’t explain why it was permissible for him to touch Jiyong but absolutely not okay for his little brother to work to please him in the same way. The expression of irritated arousal on Jiyong’s face told him how irrational he was being.

“You think I’ve never done this before?” Jiyong demanded scathingly, and absolutely laughed in his face. He took hold of Seunghyun’s belt again and gave him a good shake. “You think I don’t do this to myself every damn day now, thinking of you?”

“ _Fuck_.” How could the kid say these things out loud?! Seunghyun wondered. It was certainly enough to silence his protests; he reached down eagerly to undo the clasp, Jiyong’s slender fingers hindering more than they helped as Seunghyun kissed him rapturously. So much for his morals; then again, the question of morals was completely laughable at this point anyway. His brother’s determined hands were pushing the denim off his hips and at last were touching him, curling hot and excited around his cock. Seunghyun groaned into his mouth and heard Jiyong’s own smug, anticipatory sound. For a minute Seunghyun couldn’t move; he couldn’t do anything but let Jiyong stroke him, couldn’t look away from his face.

“ _Tabi_ ,” murmured Jiyong, stretching out the sound, and Seunghyun thought he could come just from that voice. “As much as I want to do this with you…all afternoon,” the younger boy managed between rapid breaths, “…if you don’t get me off soon Chan-mi’s gonna have a very interesting story to tell the neighbourhood!”

Seunghyun felt himself grimace, because the kid was absolutely right; he had been so lost in the pleasure of it he hadn’t even glanced at the clock. Jiyong laughed at his expression. Then he grabbed one of Seunghyun’s hands, which were lying there uselessly, and raised it to his mouth. Seunghyun watched, fascinated, as Jiyong’s sweet lips parted to draw his index finger inside; Jiyong’s tongue curled around the digit, and the sensation went straight to Seunghyun’s cock. Where the _hell_ had he learnt to do that? Seunghyun tried to make a mental note to quiz Jiyong later about his girlfriends, because the feeling was just _scandalous_. Jiyong had moved to his middle finger and was sucking on it in a way that made Seunghyun’s head go blank.

Once all of Seunghyun’s fingers were glistening Jiyong licked a hot stripe up the centre of his palm, and aimed a sharp bite at the tip of his index finger to wake him up.

“I like your hands, Tabi,” announced Jiyong. “They’re big enough to take care of both of us.”

Seunghyun nodded dumbly, getting his drift. He reached down and grabbed Jiyong’s ass, the first time he had really dared touch it and _fuck_ it felt so good, and pulled him up so their pelvises fit tight together. Jiyong gasped and curled his leg around Seunghyun’s hip, slim thigh reeling him in encouragingly. Seunghyun gulped, then pulled himself together and took both their hard-ons in his grasp, the hand Jiyong had paid so much attention to, working them together with his slick fingers. Jiyong clutched at him, burrowed his head beneath Seunghyun’s chin, breath coming hot against his throat.

“ _Oh my god_ ,” he said again, as Seunghyun moved faster, like he had never been touched this way before. Seunghyun understood: it was nothing like jerking off by yourself, this feeling of intimacy and secrets shared between them; not to mention the sensation of Jiyong’s flesh against his.

“ _Please_ ,” moaned Jiyong, frankly begging now with no sign of embarrassment. Seunghyun obeyed with alacrity; he could think of nothing more important now than satisfying this amazing creature. Jiyong’s fingernails dug into his shoulders as he sped up, it was probably too fast but they couldn’t stop now, and then the younger boy was coming, the most magical expression on his face.

Seunghyun kissed him, reluctantly muffling the ecstatic noise he made, and kept stroking himself. After a moment Jiyong’s hand joined him, and just the thought of his touch was enough to tip Seunghyun over. Jiyong didn’t let go; he gave the bigger man an amazed, pleased grin and pulled him down on top of him until he was finished. Seunghyun was quite happy to collapse – his muscles had turned to jelly with the relief of his orgasm. He sank his head down beside Jiyong’s, and felt his brother’s cheek press softly against his.

“You are…” started Seunghyun dazedly, after a long minute of silence, but found he couldn’t finish. Jiyong giggled in his ear and moved lazily against him, his skin hot and sticky to match Seunghyun’s own.

“I _am_ ,” he agreed. He made a regretful noise and pushed Seunghyun gently off him. “But I’m also naked in your bed, and it’s almost three-thirty.”

“Shit.” Seunghyun got up inelegantly and grabbed a towel to wipe himself down before zipping his jeans. He looked at Jiyong, lying there tired and graceful and apparently well satisfied, and thought that he would be glad to see him naked in his bed every day of his life.

“Hey,” said Jiyong, who despite his words showed no sign of leaving. He stuck his arms behind his head. “You’ve got that birthmark.”

“What?”

“There.” Jiyong nodded at Seunghyun’s left hip.

“Oh, that.” Seunghyun rarely let people see him without a shirt and so nobody had ever commented on it; he himself barely noticed it. It was a small mark, just a centimetre across, and was almost geometric in shape, like a wonky parallelogram. “What about it?”

Jiyong extracted one hand and slid it down his side to tap his own thigh, just below the curve of his hip.

“I’ve got it too.” He rolled onto his side. For a moment Seunghyun was distracted with staring at his ass, then focused.

“I can’t see anything.”

“Right here.” Jiyong prodded at the flesh of his leg. Seunghyun leaned down, and what do you know, the boy was right: the same birthmark, fainter but almost the exact size and shape, only a few tones darker than Jiyong’s skin.

“How did you even notice that?” enquired Seunghyun, reaching out to touch it; like his own it was completely smooth. “How much time do you spend preening in the mirror?!” Jiyong smiled at him complacently. Then he sighed.

“I guess we really are related.”

“Right,” said Seunghyun with a sinking feeling. He had been refusing the thought all day, and knew he would continue to whenever they were together – he had every intention of this happening again, he told himself defiantly. Sometime they would have to face it. Just not now.

Jiyong shrugged, apparently reaching the same conclusion. He got up, held his hand out for the towel, and scooped up his clothes from the floor. Seunghyun bent and kissed him and Jiyong returned it languorously, sliding his arms briefly around Seunghyun’s waist. Then the sound of a car in the driveway yanked them both out of their idiotic trance, and Jiyong hurried out.

Seunghyun sat down on the bed, and tried not to think about how many times he would have to jerk off before dinner just to be able to look his brother in the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of the fic is written, but it needs a bit of editing so I'll probably just post one chapter every day or two. If you're still reading, thank you very much for being patient and I hope you're enjoying it. Frankly, Book 1 is more or less smut; but plot is coming, I promise :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong tries to take things to the next level - in every sense.  
> Yeah, so...actual smut :)

Jiyong had never been happier, perhaps not even when his mother was alive. It felt wrong to admit that, and he was probably setting the bar pretty low anyway; but he couldn’t imagine that it was possible to _be_ any happier than this. It had been almost a week now – five days of snatched hours in Seunghyun’s bedroom while everyone was out of the house, interspersed with long periods of frustration and anticipation – and the warm glow in his stomach showed no sign of abating.

Seunghyun wanted him. Jiyong would have known it even without the ample proof the older boy gave him when they were alone; Seunghyun’s gorgeous eyes followed him no matter who else was in the room, and whenever their gazes met it was like someone had lit a fire under that beautiful skin of his. The knowledge was enough to blot out almost all his other worries. The secrecy was an inconvenience, sure, but it just made their trysts more mind-blowing. He hated hiding things from their father; but Seunghyun’s significance in Jiyong’s mind had risen to such a degree that it no longer mattered so terribly. Jiyong had even stopped caring that they were brothers, that they were sinning in almost the worst way he knew.

The only thing that still bothered him was what Seunghyun thought of him, beyond the obvious fact of his desire. He wasn’t convinced that his sibling didn’t still resent him. Seunghyun didn’t seem very eager to spend time with him when other people were around; he was always going to the library, or out drinking with his school friends, or who knew where. Jiyong wanted to get to know him better, and to have Seunghyun know _him_. It was what he had always wanted, back when he was a grieving, lonely, idiot kid. But the way Seunghyun kept his distance made the younger boy wary of sharing too much of himself; what if Seunghyun used it to hurt him? He was deeply afraid of Seunghyun’s mother getting back from her holiday, because whenever his brother returned from visiting her in the past he had acted even crueller than usual. What if that happened again?

But at last he reached a point where he had to tell Seunghyun how he felt. It wasn’t enough to be his lover, Jiyong had realized that day, after they had gotten each other off delightfully but with no time to talk. They _had_ to be more.

That evening Jiyong was lolling on the sofa, half watching a period drama on TV and half observing his family. Seunghyun had just redrafted a paper on some boring and complicated part of the Korean legal system, and had asked their father to go through it and correct bits. Jiyong knew from the approving noises his dad was making that the essay was pretty much perfect, and that Seunghyun had known it before he even showed him.

“Nice job,” said their father once he reached the end, and gave Seunghyun a pat on the shoulder. Jiyong saw his brother’s face light up in a way he knew quite well; he made the same expression himself whenever the man chose to praise him.

“What about the branch courts?” asked Seunghyun. _Swot_ , thought Jiyong sourly. As if hearing him Seunghyun flicked a glance his way, and the younger boy realised that Seunghyun had been aware of him watching this whole time.

“Ah,” said their father, sounding pleased. “I’ve got an interesting article on that, if you want to know more.” Seunghyun nodded, and he got to his feet. “I’ll go and hunt it up.” Out he went, granting Jiyong a fond smile on the way. Seunghyun stayed where he was, chin in his hand.

“Why do you do that?” asked Jiyong quietly once their father had left the room.

“What?” said Seunghyun, puzzled.

“Show off for him.” Seunghyun frowned. “You’re already amazing, Tabi,” Jiyong informed him, lying back among the sofa cushions. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“…I didn’t realise you noticed.” Seunghyun looked vaguely ashamed.

“Of course I notice,” Jiyong said with a smile. “‘Cos I do it too. When I have anything to show off about.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Seunghyun wryly. Jiyong stretched all the way to the tips of his toes, and shot him a chiding grin when he caught him looking.

“My point is,” continued Jiyong, who knew just how much of a tease he was being but was sticking with it to keep his brother’s attention, “why do we still bark after Dad’s approval? After everything he did, we oughta feel some moral superiority. But I don’t. Do you?”

“No.”

“We both want to please him so badly.” Jiyong shrugged. “And there it is; god knows it’s the least of what’s wrong with us.” He looked earnestly over at Seunghyun, who nodded grimly. “But does that have to mean competing with each other?” Seunghyun kept quiet, and the younger boy sighed. “I’m tired of trying to win against you,” he said. “I wanna support you. I _want_ you to be a success, and be happy, and I want you to want that for me.” He shut up, suddenly nervous that he had said too much, had exposed too much of what he really needed.

Seunghyun stared at him as if wondering where this person had come from. Jiyong could see his mind working, that big old brain reflected in the furrow between his perfect eyebrows.

“…You’re my blood,” Seunghyun said slowly, at last. “I want you to be happy.” Jiyong inhaled sharply, and Seunghyun set his jaw. Had it been that difficult for him to say? Jiyong supposed it was a major step forward from where they were two weeks ago, and told himself that he should be very well content. Then, “I’ll _make_ you happy,” Seunghyun added in his deep voice; almost stubbornly, as if he was making a difficult promise to himself.

Jiyong felt his face glow with pleasure. It was enough, he thought; he could live on those words for a long time. At the sight of his hopefulness Seunghyun’s own features had transformed; he was gazing at Jiyong raptly, as though he was _special_.

They stared at each other until their father came back downstairs.

 

* * *

 

 

The only other thing Jiyong thought he could possibly complain about was that Seunghyun, in a condescending and makes-no-sense kind of way, persisted in treating him like a kid at the oddest moments.

“Why am I always the one who gets undressed?” Jiyong demanded, standing at the foot of Seunghyun’s bed while the older boy lounged full-length on it and watched him. Seunghyun was clothed from head to toe, as usual; Jiyong suspected that he’d never get naked in front of another person at all were it not for his own persistence over the last few days. Seunghyun smiled, that really unfair smile that made women – and apparently Jiyong – fall all over themselves to make him do it again.

“Because I like to watch you,” he said simply. Jiyong preened a bit at that and pulled his tshirt over his head. Seunghyun leaned up on his elbows, staring at him intently.

“You’re crazy hot too, you know, Tabi,” Jiyong told him as he reached for his belt. Seunghyun raised his eyebrows at that ‘too’, but licked his lips unconsciously as though Jiyong was a meal he’d been waiting all day to start eating. The younger boy unzipped his pants leisurely; they had a bit of time, it was Chan-mi’s afternoon off, and there was no harm in making Seunghyun wait some more. “Maybe I’d like to see _you_ do a striptease occasionally.” Seunghyun curled one corner of his mouth up.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“Those jeans look very uncomfortable,” Jiyong pointed out, stepping out of his own clothes at last and nodding meaningfully at Seunghyun’s hard-on. “Maybe I should help you take them off.”

“Later,” said Seunghyun throatily, and he hopped off the bed, grabbed his brother by the hips and bundled him down onto his back. Jiyong laughed, out of breath with surprise – the bigger boy could certainly move when he felt like it. Then Seunghyun was on him, hands and mouth stimulating every bit of skin they could reach, moving lower and lower until Seunghyun was off the bed and on his knees on the carpet.

In only a few minutes he had Jiyong panting, a trail of light suction marks and the indents of teeth leading from his collarbone down to his navel. Seunghyun loved to touch him, Jiyong knew; he would spend as long as possible tasting his skin, breathing him in. Sometimes it felt like hours, whole afternoons of simmering delight. What Jiyong wasn’t sure about was whether Seunghyun simply didn’t care about being touched back, or whether he had a specific problem with Jiyong doing it. It took some persuasion every time for Seunghyun to let Jiyong even jerk him off, which was a shame because Jiyong was damn good at it. And there were other things he wanted to be good at, like –

“ _Ohh_ ,” exclaimed Jiyong, not bothering to lower his voice now he was sure they were alone, as Seunghyun took him into his mouth. He managed to lift his head and was just in time to see the older boy take a firm grip on his hips and tug him towards the edge of the bed to get a better angle. “Oh, you amazing son of a bitch…!” He’d been hoping that this was where Seunghyun was going; ever since his brother had plucked up the courage to try it two days ago Jiyong had been fantasizing about it.

He heard Seunghyun give a soft rumble of laughter in the back of his throat, and he swore he could _feel_ it all the way along his cock.

“Ahh!” Jiyong let his head fall back and grabbed two handfuls of duvet to spare Seunghyun’s tidy hair. Seunghyun kept on, trying out different things, some of which puzzled Jiyong and some of which made him moan out loud, but always with an attention to detail that was going to win him a whole lot of legal cases someday. Jiyong found himself reduced to a mass of trembling limbs – Seunghyun had one arm hooked round his thigh for leverage, and it was the only thing keeping him steady – and a monosyllabic vocabulary.

“ _Pleasepleasepleaseplease_ …” he heard himself saying, like it was some kind of chant that would give him what he wanted if he begged enough. And sure enough Seunghyun obliged at last, closing his hand round the base of Jiyong’s erection and taking him in until his mouth met his fingers. Then Jiyong did grab his hair, a silent plea to keep moving, Seunghyun’s cheekbone pressed against the soft skin of his inner thigh. Seunghyun got faster, not stopping even when Jiyong’s heel smacked him hard in the back of the shoulder. He made a low, pleased noise when Jiyong came, much quicker than he had the first time they had tried it, and swallowed everything down.

When Jiyong could move again he lifted his head and saw Seunghyun grinning at him from between his legs, flushed with effort but looking smug as hell.

“Did you like it?” his brother asked redundantly, licking his perfect lips, which had turned an attractive pink beneath his summer tan. Jiyong kicked him in the shoulder again.

“What do you think?” He took a moment to catch his breath; he felt sated and sticky all over, even with the air conditioning running. He sat up with some difficulty and grabbed Seunghyun by his shirt-front, dragging him up onto the bed and into his arms. Seunghyun was so hard against his hip, and Jiyong felt a distant wash of arousal – he knew he couldn’t get it up again for a bit, but soon – mixed with an ambitious desire to do just as good a job.

“Sit there,” he said excitedly, pushing Seunghyun into place and climbing into his lap. Seunghyun wrapped his arms around him enthusiastically, hands sliding down to squeeze his ass. Christ, that felt good, and so did the ardent kiss his brother planted on his lips. But Jiyong was on a mission. “Stay put,” he ordered sweetly, and clambered out of his lap to kneel on the floor at his feet. Ever since that first afternoon he had been imagining himself like this.

“Wait!” Jiyong frowned and paused, his hands on Seunghyun’s denim-clad thighs. “You can’t,” said Seunghyun, sounding agonized but also determined. Jiyong scowled up at him.

“You just did this exact same thing to me!!” Seunghyun set one hand beneath the other boy’s chin and looked at him.

“You’re too young.”

“Oh, for-” Jiyong wanted to smack him. “This again?!” He stood up abruptly, pushing his way between Seunghyun’s knees to glare down into his face. “You know you’re not making sense, Tabi. I’m old enough to have it done to me but not to do it?! That’s so dumb.”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Seunghyun stubbornly. “You’re only just sixteen. If you were my sister and I caught you blowing some guy, I’d beat the crap out of him.”

“Even if you hated me?” snapped Jiyong.

“Even then.”

“Even if I was already a total tramp?” Jiyong was pretty sure he deserved that label, given what he’d done with his brother so far.

“But you’re not,” stated Seunghyun solemnly, and gave him an odd smile; Jiyong couldn’t tell if it contained more pity or protectiveness. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Jiyong felt himself turn scarlet. “How do you know that?! I’ve had girlfriends!”

“I just do,” said Seunghyun, the condescending bastard, as if his three extra years somehow made him an expert. “And I don’t plan on doing anything to change it.”

“You are such a…” Jiyong gave the side of the bed a frustrated kick, then sat down on it with a thud. Seunghyun reached for his hand; Jiyong debated shaking him off, but in the end decided against it. He gave him a mutinous stare instead. “Do you even know what ‘virgin’ means?!” Seunghyun nodded, and Jiyong was sure he was trying not to laugh. “Then your definition makes no sense.”

“I don’t care.” Seunghyun slid one arm around his waist and scooped him up onto his knee. “I said I’d make you happy, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” said Jiyong, sulking.

“Then that means I won’t do anything that might hurt you; _here_ …” He prodded Jiyong in the centre of his body, then tapped the middle of his forehead, “or _here_. Even if it’s something you want me to do.” Jiyong gaped at him, not sure whether to feel cherished or outraged.

“You are so high-handed!”

“Big word,” said Seunghyun, grinning at him.

“Think you’re so smart, don’t you.”

“Yes,” said Seunghyun.

“Then,” snapped Jiyong crossly, wriggling out of his grasp and grabbing his discarded clothes, “you can just finish yourself off, Mr. Smart. I’m sure you know how to do it much better than me!”

“Aww, come on,” complained Seunghyun. “I didn’t mean you’re dumb, and I didn’t mean you’re not good! I just meant you’re a kid. You can still do it better than I can!”

“Ask me again in two years,” Jiyong retorted, “and maybe I will!”    

He flounced out, and with great satisfaction heard Seunghyun groan behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was persuasive. It was very, very dangerous, thought Seunghyun, who had drawn himself some strict lines in the sand, because every damn day he found his little brother trying to rub them out. It had been harder since Chan-mi had taken her summer vacation. Their father was home for a day or two, working in his office upstairs while the two corporations involved in his current case argued amongst themselves whether to settle out of court. That helped. But it still left days on end with no-one at home but Seunghyun and Jiyong, and Seunghyun could only spend so much time out of the house without it looking like he was snubbing the younger boy. And that he didn’t want to do.

It was worse now that Jiyong had discovered the merits of the master bathroom as a mess-free arena for their encounters. Their father barely bothered using it, and as Jiyong pointed out it was only going to waste. It was Seunghyun’s mother who had installed the oversize showers, the huge bath and the Jacuzzi functions, and up to now Jiyong had been wary of using it when Seunghyun was around, in spite of his innate love of pampering. Seunghyun hadn’t much liked the idea of it, himself; but Jiyong persuaded him in there one day, and after that he couldn’t possibly say no.

In the end they spent hours at a time there that summer, the tips of their fingers wrinkled up like raisins from playing in the water. Seunghyun didn’t feel so weird being naked in the bathroom – it was the natural place to wear nothing – and he knew that pleased Jiyong. But it also gave his brother the perfect setup to try and push his boundaries, and to Seunghyun’s dismay and extreme physical delight it was beginning to work. Jiyong would climb on top of him in the deep tub, Seunghyun’s body hidden by the copious scented bubbles, and they would lie there touching each other, pressed together slippery as eels until they either came or Seunghyun ran out of restraint and lifted the smaller boy out onto the tiles to blow him.

Jiyong _always_ tried to reciprocate; his usual trick was to get in the bath and wait for Seunghyun to approach with the soap and loofahs and other unnecessary cleaning paraphernalia he demanded, then jump him when Seunghyun’s hands were full, kneeling up in the water to kiss his stomach and gaze up at him with those tempting eyes. Seunghyun never let him. But there were other things Jiyong wanted, things that didn’t require the younger boy to be so actively complicit; and though they were worse they ended up being that much harder to resist.

“Tabi,” said Jiyong seductively, his wet hair slick against the nape of his neck and gleaming like a seal’s pelt. “How old will I have to be before you fuck me?” Seunghyun glared up at him; Jiyong settled himself more comfortably in his lap and smiled at him sweetly. Seunghyun had learned to mistrust that expression: it usually ended in him letting Jiyong do something stupid.

“How can you say this stuff out loud?!” he wondered, not for the first time. It was quite shocking, although unfortunately his dick thought otherwise. “Never, how about that?!”

“But I _reeaaally_ want you to,” explained Jiyong, drawing out the syllables in a deliberate moan and shifting his ass teasingly against Seunghyun’s erection. “Don’t you think it would feel good?”

“ _Dream on_ ,” Seunghyun told him, not even trying to answer that question. Jiyong pouted.

“I’ll be thirty by the time _you_ think I’m ready.” Seunghyun snorted, and Jiyong thumped him lightly in the chest. “You’re stunting my growth.”

“You’ll be married by then,” Seunghyun reassured him. “And if it comes to it, she can pop your cherry the proper way.” Jiyong shot him a strange look, and didn’t reply for a minute. Then he smiled.

“You are the most old-fashioned pervert I ever heard of.” Seunghyun had to take that one on the chin, though it wasn’t how he cared to think of himself; but there was no denying it with his little brother wet and naked in his lap.

“You’re so hot, Tabi,” Jiyong continued persuasively. “I think even you don’t know how much.” He leaned forward to press his torso against Seunghyun’s, creating a small tidal wave of warm water that swirled around Seunghyun’s cock and just made things worse. “I want you,” said Jiyong in a low voice, and kissed him, dripping water into his face. “I want you all the time.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Seunghyun agreed ardently.

“Then do something for me.” Jiyong’s lips brushed his when he spoke. “Something new. Something that’ll make us even closer.”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” Seunghyun repeated.

“I know,” acknowledged Jiyong. “But I still want you inside me.”

He had to hand it to the kid, thought Seunghyun desperately: he knew exactly what to say and when to say it, and that last line had made the older boy absolutely dizzy. It was his own brain’s fault – the images it had conjured up from that simple phrase were frankly disgraceful, and he wanted to realise all of them. He wouldn’t, of course; but his body was eager for Jiyong, and the rest of him wanted so keenly to please him. He could do _something_ , couldn’t he? Not too much. Just enough to satisfy them both.

“…All right,” he muttered reluctantly, and heard Jiyong exhale in excitement. Seunghyun began to stroke his slender back, skimming one hand down his spine. Jiyong gradually relaxed into the leisurely movements, and Seunghyun bent his head to kiss the side of his neck. Trying not to think too deeply he trailed his fingers lower and lower, eventually dipping them between the cleft of Jiyong’s buttocks; the one area he had been so careful to stay away from. Jiyong was taking long, luxurious breaths, rubbing his cheek against Seunghyun’s temple; he made a soft sound as Seunghyun’s fingers – he was trying hard to stop them from shaking – brushed his entrance under the water.

“Please,” he said softly. Seunghyun’s throat felt tight, like he was doing something terribly dangerous. Jiyong’s hands were on his shoulders, his grip light and trusting. Seunghyun slid his free hand around the younger boy’s waist, and with the other continued to stroke him there, until Jiyong was hard and moving against him eagerly.

“Tell me if it hurts,” he instructed Jiyong, in a voice that sounded strange to his own ears. He felt Jiyong nod. “You have to be relaxed.”

“I am,” Jiyong told him. Very tentatively Seunghyun pressed the tip of his index finger against Jiyong’s opening, not trying to put it in but just pushing lightly and letting go, repeating the movement to get them both used to the feeling. He thought this might be more frightening for him than his brother, although Jiyong’s breath had sped up, the pulse in his neck racing beneath Seunghyun’s lips.

After some time Jiyong seemed to calm down. Seunghyun took a steadying breath and pushed again, more firmly this time. Jiyong let out a quiet, uncertain whine as the tip of Seunghyun’s finger slowly entered him, and the older boy stopped immediately. Jiyong was so tight! Seunghyun had never tried this before, had no idea what he was doing, and was really afraid he would hurt or scare him.

“I’m okay,” Jiyong assured him. “Keep going.”

Seunghyun obeyed him; as usual, giving in to Jiyong’s demands felt awfully good, risky though it was. He pushed his finger deeper, aided by the water, up to his second knuckle. Jiyong raised his head to look down at him, his expression complicated but fiercely aroused.

“It does feel good,” said Jiyong hesitantly, as if he was not quite sure about that himself. “Don’t stop, Tabi…”

“You know I don’t know how to do this,” confessed Seunghyun, and Jiyong gave him a shadow of his old cheeky smile.

“Not so smart now, huh?”

“No,” said Seunghyun, earnestly, “and that’s what’s freaking me out.”

“I’ll tell you when to stop.” Jiyong rocked his slim hips experimentally against Seunghyun’s hand, and bit his lip. “Just give me a bit more. I like knowing that you’re in me…”

“You’re so _tight_ ,” Seunghyun objected, embarrassed to find that it embarrassed him to say it aloud. He cupped Jiyong’s face worriedly. Jiyong bit his thumb, and he felt a bolt of arousal shoot through him. “…But okay. I think there’s something that can help.”

With that Seunghyun lifted Jiyong off him easily and set him down in the bath. He got out, still hard enough that he caught Jiyong licking his lips as he eyed his erection, and padded ungracefully over to the cabinet.

“Here we go,” he said when he got back, brandishing a bottle of massage oil. Jiyong nodded eagerly. Seunghyun thought for a minute. “Just…here.” He set his hand to the back of Jiyong’s neck and manoeuvred him gently to where he wanted him. “On your knees, lean over the side. Yeah, like that.”

“This pose feels really naughty,” commented Jiyong in mock bashfulness, wiggling his butt and looking back over his shoulder with a smirk. “Dirty old man.”

“Shut up or I won’t do it.” Jiyong quietened down and Seunghyun got in behind him. He bent to kiss his brother on the nape of the neck, then poured the oil into his hands and set them to Jiyong’s shoulders.

“Nice,” muttered Jiyong, settling down on his elbows as Seunghyun began to massage his back. Seunghyun agreed; _this_ felt safe. This he would do as many times as Jiyong liked. Soon Jiyong’s head had dropped between his arms and he was sighing pleasurably. Seunghyun slipped his hand over the other boy’s stomach and spent some time working his cock with his slippery fingers. Jiyong moaned happily at that, pushing into his touch. His high little voice echoed in the steamy bathroom; it was one of the most erotic things Seunghyun had ever witnessed.

“Spread your legs,” Seunghyun suggested gently, and nudged Jiyong’s thighs apart. Jiyong was right, this position was really obscene, and Seunghyun had never been so turned on in his life. He added more oil to his hands, placed one in the small of Jiyong’s arched back and parted his buttocks with the other. This time his finger slid in easily, with just enough resistance to make him imagine what really having Jiyong would be like; he didn’t want to think about it. He just couldn’t help himself.

Jiyong was breathing carefully, regulating his oxygen with steady, deliberate inhalations. Seunghyun pushed the digit all the way in, then began to move it slowly back, building a tentative in-and-out movement that made Jiyong groan softly.

“You are just amazing,” Seunghyun told him, rubbing circles along his back with his free hand to soothe him. “Are you okay?” Jiyong nodded; Seunghyun couldn’t see his face.

“I wanna come like this,” said Jiyong hoarsely. “With you inside me.”

“All right,” managed Seunghyun. He was almost ready himself. Without removing his hand he leaned over Jiyong’s back, wanted to get as close to him as possible, though he couldn’t say who he was trying to reassure. With his other hand he began to stroke Jiyong slowly.

“God,” said Jiyong, and pushed back against him. “You’re so hard!”

“What do you expect?” Seunghyun growled into his ear. “Looking at you…” He heard Jiyong give a purr of approval; a vainer kid Seunghyun had never met.

“You can fuck me,” Jiyong told him, his voice taut.

“No.”

“Not like _that_. You were right,” Jiyong admitted, “I’m not ready yet… But I know a way that’ll be…easier on your conscience.”

“What?” asked Seunghyun dubiously, kissing his shoulder. He liked hearing that he knew best.

“I found it on the Internet…”

“Oh, wonderful.”

“Here.” Seunghyun felt Jiyong move beneath him, pressing his slim thighs tight together. He took hold of Seunghyun’s left hand and pushed it between them, a hot, slippery space. “Put it here.”

“This is really…” began Seunghyun. But Jiyong had felt the bigger boy’s cock twitch at the prospect.

“…The closest I’m gonna get to what I want,” murmured Jiyong, smug and breathless. He twisted until he could crane his elegant neck back and kiss his brother’s jaw. “It won’t hurt me…and they say it feels good. So just try it.”

Yet again Seunghyun decided to abandon his better judgement; the offer was just too inviting. Heart racing he took hold of Jiyong’s hip and moved him into a better position, then began stroking him again. The moment he pushed his erection between Jiyong’s soft thighs was incredible; it was a brand new sensation, not just tactile but visual too: Jiyong’s hot flesh squeezing down on him, the younger boy’s body laid out below him, the line of his back a pleasing arc. Seunghyun began to move, and Jiyong whimpered. He didn’t sound unhappy.

It was tricky to coordinate, Seunghyun discovered, especially when his brain cells started to check out: getting Jiyong off with one hand and finger-fucking him with the other, all while trying to restrain himself from thrusting between his legs with no control at all, was almost impossible. Jiyong was crying out softly beneath him, tone rising and falling depending on what Seunghyun was concentrating on at the time. In the end Seunghyun gave up and decided to prioritize, and obviously making his brother come was of the first importance.

He moved his invading finger slowly while he pumped Jiyong’s slick hard-on faster and faster. As soon as he felt him start to come he quit thinking about his hands and focused on his own arousal, pushing himself between Jiyong’s inviting thighs, his hipbones meeting the boy’s ass with a rhythmic series of wet smacks and thrusting Jiyong forward onto his folded arms. Jiyong was panting heavily, breath coming almost as fast as Seunghyun’s. Seunghyun caught him around the waist and dragged him up to embrace him, chest against his back.

“Tabi…” breathed Jiyong shakily, small hands clutching his forearm. Seunghyun buried his face in his shoulder and climaxed; he felt Jiyong constrict around his finger, and held him close. Seunghyun was speaking, murmuring into Jiyong’s skin, but had no idea what he was saying. They stayed that way for a long time.

Eventually Seunghyun let Jiyong go carefully and lowered him back into the water.

“Are you all right?” he asked gently, pushing Jiyong’s wet hair out of his face and taking his hand. He noticed teeth marks in Jiyong’s smooth shoulder. “I bit you!” Jiyong looked, let out a dazed laugh, then leaned up and kissed him.

“I’m fine,” Jiyong said in an unsteady voice. He squeezed Seunghyun’s fingers. “I liked it. Just…cuddle me for a bit, yeah?”

Without any more prompting Seunghyun sat down beside him and slid one arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jiyong leaned into his side and embraced him. Then he went quiet. Seunghyun sat there silently. Occasionally he ran his fingers through Jiyong’s hair as the younger boy’s breathing evened out. It was the first time, he realized, that they had spent any time being close after getting off; perhaps the first time he had been physically affectionate with Jiyong at all. To his surprise he thought he might like it as much as getting him into bed. What did that say?

Jiyong sighed against him and snuggled closer, though the water was getting cold.

“We’d better shower and get out,” Seunghyun told him, lips against the top of his head. “You’ll turn into a prune.”

“…I love you,” was Jiyong’s only reply. He said it very quietly. But Seunghyun had heard it; he just didn’t know how to react to it. They were the last words he had ever expected to hear from this boy, and his brain was simply unable to process it. Jiyong sighed again. He sounded very tired. Seunghyun found that he couldn’t say anything; it was too big. Instead he leaned down and kissed Jiyong’s temple. He hoped it felt as affectionate as he had meant it.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go out to dinner.”

“…You want to go into town?” Jiyong asked, perking up a bit. “You want to be seen at a restaurant? With _me_?”

“Yes,” said Seunghyun firmly. And, strangely, that seemed to do the trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will contain...no nookie! For once ^^;  
> Thank you for taking the time to read. Plot will come! Eventually.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun tries to actually get to know his little brother, and is surprised to discover a few things about himself.

The day after his bathtime adventure Seunghyun went to stay with his mother for the night. They’d had it planned for weeks, since she gave him her return date from Japan. He was looking forward to it. Seunghyun felt very close to his mother, although paradoxically he hadn’t spent too much time with her these last four years. There hadn’t been a custody battle; Seunghyun’s father was at the top of his profession, and could have made things very difficult. Not that he would have, Seunghyun always maintained, giving him the benefit of the doubt. But he was the one with the power and the influence to give Seunghyun the best prospects, and so had agreed with his ex-wife that it was best their child live with him. Seunghyun hadn’t been asked his opinion: his mother had made it clear that it was _her_ choice, and what could he do but go along with it?

Seunghyun had always seen her regularly – once a week at least while he was still a schoolboy, though that wasn’t nearly enough for the anxious teenager he had been – but it wasn’t the same as having a mom at home. And so he should be excited to visit her now. But there was something bothering him, and he knew it was about Jiyong.

Seunghyun was rather reluctant to leave his little brother today; Jiyong had seemed so fragile after the afternoon before. Seunghyun couldn’t forget the way the younger boy had held on to him, or what he had said. And at dinner that night Jiyong had been very well-behaved: sensibly dressed and polite and generally charming to the restaurant staff. They had talked for three hours without one argument – a world first – and Jiyong had acted so sweet. Seunghyun hoped he would be all right.

“You don’t mind, right?” he had asked early that morning before he left, stealing into Jiyong’s bedroom to say goodbye.

“Mind?” said Jiyong groggily, rolling over to blink at him. “Why would I mind? She’s your mom.”

“Yeah, I know,” whispered Seunghyun, curling his long fingers around Jiyong’s hand where it lay on the pillow. He supposed that from the kid’s point of view he was damn lucky to have a mother to visit at all. He’d never thought about that before. “I just thought you might want to hang out today.”

“Tomorrow,” Jiyong replied sleepily, and yawned. Seunghyun kissed him quickly and left.

What Jiyong didn’t know, Seunghyun thought as he drove into the city to the large apartment, was how his mother tended to talk about her ex-husband’s bastard child. That was his main worry. Seunghyun was really, genuinely looking forward to spending time with her. He just didn’t know how he would react if she brought it up.

 

For most of the day it was fine. Seunghyun’s mother had told him about her trip to Tokyo and given him his present – a Yayoi Kusama print.

“It’s too eccentric for your dorm room, really,” she said. “And too expensive! But when you get your own place there are lots of things you could do with it.”

Seunghyun smiled, and she beamed back and opened her interior scrapbooks to show him. His mother had always been into design, and had passed her interest on to him. Seunghyun didn’t plan to make a career out of it or anything. But he loved beautiful things, and enjoyed setting them off to their proper advantage; it made his mind feel tidy.

They spent a pleasant lunchtime in her top-of-the-range kitchen. Then Seunghyun took her out for tea at the Park Hyatt. His mother deserved treating well, he’d decided as soon as he was in university and not a kid anymore. She’d missed out on several years of it thanks to his father’s antics, and although she still had all her living expenses covered it wasn’t the same as having someone spoil her.

There was a bit of an odd moment while they were eating. Without even thinking of it Seunghyun had made a joke; not a witty bit of verbal dexterity but a rather dorky impression, and his mother had given him the strangest look. Seunghyun caught himself and went back to telling her about the internships he’d been offered for next year. Then he retreated into a pensive mood and sat drinking his tea with a frown.

Why had that been so peculiar? he wondered. He remembered Jiyong laughing several times last night at dumb things he had said, one hand over his pretty mouth. He had liked it. It struck Seunghyun that perhaps spending less time hating his brother was actually effecting some kind of personality change in him. It had certainly taken up a large chunk of his time and emotions for years. The feeling had only been absent a little while, but already he felt…looser. Setting aside the ominous thundercloud of his shame over what they were doing, of course. Seunghyun blinked. Maybe he _was_ funny. Maybe he was dorky. Maybe he was a man who was indulgent towards his disadvantaged half-brother. And maybe that was okay.

But it wouldn’t be okay with her.

 

“How’s your summer going?” inquired his mother that evening. They were in her beautifully designed living room, relaxing on the matching sofas with wine Seunghyun had pinched from the cellar at home.

“Oh, you know,” said Seunghyun, waving his hand. “Trying to stay ahead of the workload for next semester.” She looked at him fondly, and gestured with her empty glass. Seunghyun hopped up to fill it.

“You’re as bad as your father.” Seunghyun smiled; when it came to anything work-related, he took that as a compliment. “Still up to his eyes in cases, is he?”

“Just the big ones,” he said. She shrugged affably. Seunghyun was aware that she must feel pretty bitter towards her ex-husband, and with good reason. But she had never tried to poison Seunghyun against him. Now he was older he appreciated that.

“You’re getting to look so much like him,” she added, tilting her head to peer at him. “Though everyone says you’ve got my eyes. Anyway, you should watch yourself, a handsome boy like you.”

“Mom!” said Seunghyun bashfully.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Seunghyun froze, and wrestled back a mental image of Jiyong’s familiar face above him.

“…I was for a bit at the start of the holidays,” he said carefully, although he had barely thought of Soojung since the day he and Jiyong had had the fight that changed everything. “But I just don’t have time to commit.”

“Well. You’re too young for anything serious. Don’t rush into things!” She frowned briefly, deepening the fine lines on her white forehead. “Or you’ll end up like your dad.”

“I won’t,” Seunghyun assured her obediently. His mother toyed with her wineglass.

“Speaking of which, how’s his _baggage_?” She wrinkled her straight nose. “Not spoiling your vacation, I hope?” Seunghyun felt his jaw clench. This was it. This was what he had hoped wouldn’t happen.

“No,” he said dismissively, and hoped she would leave it at that.

“You know you can come and stay here if he annoys you too much.”

“It’s fine. I just go to the library.”

“You shouldn’t have to,” said his mother fiercely, and to his dismay Seunghyun recognised that tone of voice; she was about to go off on one. “Why your father doesn’t send him away to school I never understood. Having his mistress’s kid around! It doesn’t do you any favours. And another thing…”

Seunghyun stared down into the blood-coloured wine and listened to her vent. He had heard the same thing a hundred times these past four years, and realized with a depressed start how much it had fuelled his own dislike of Jiyong. He had always agreed with her, _always_ ; and not only because she was his mother and he should but because he had felt the same. Or had he?

Almost to his relief, he found that the longer she talked the angrier he was getting. The real reason he had been reluctant to come here today was the fear that he might end up agreeing with her again, and regaining all his old hatred of Jiyong. She was a powerful influence – he loved her – and his truce with his brother was so new and delicate. Jiyong wasn’t exactly helpless, but he could hardly defend himself against a vindictive adult. Seunghyun didn’t want to hear any more of it; no, he _refused_ to.

“Mom,” he said heavily, cutting her off mid-sentence. “Can we please just stop talking about him?” His mother looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, but-”

“I mean it,” he told her. “Please don’t say stuff about Jiyong anymore.”

“ _Jiyong_?” His mother almost never used Jiyong’s name when she was talking about him, and Seunghyun had always followed her lead. “What happened, sweetheart? Did your father scold you about him? Have you been letting him bother you?”

“No,” said Seunghyun, firmly. “I’ve just grown up a lot this semester. Done some thinking.” Her eyebrows were rising up her forehead. “And however much you dislike him, I don’t think it’s fair to keep blaming the kid for something that’s not his fault.”

“It _is_ his fault,” she retorted quietly; her knuckles were white on her wineglass. “If Jihoon hadn’t brought him home like a…a _cuckoo_ , we’d all still be together now.”

“Then blame Dad.” Seunghyun was trying to speak calmly, but it was difficult, as difficult as it had always been to keep his temper around Jiyong. He was experiencing a fierce protective urge towards his brother that quite shocked him with its intensity. He exhaled slowly. “Or blame Jiyong’s mother, if you have to. Just…don’t badmouth him in front of me again. Please. Because I won’t listen to it.”

Seunghyun subsided and sat there in silence, staring stubbornly out of the window. He felt bad for her, and he didn’t want to be ruder than he had to; he’d never been, not to her, never in his life. But he wouldn’t retreat, either.

“…Maybe you’d better go to bed,” his mother said at last, in an ambivalent tone. She didn’t sound like she was ordering him, but Seunghyun sensed she was very angry; and a little defensive, as though she was expecting him to make a scene. Well, Seunghyun wasn’t a kid anymore. So he got to his feet quietly and nodded to her.

“Night, Mom.” She looked up at him, bemused. He left the room.

He spent the hours before he went to sleep texting Jiyong. Nothing that would be dangerous to put in a message, just small talk about the drama Jiyong was obsessed with.

_I miss you_ , was Jiyong’s last message before he turned his phone off. Seunghyun knew he should delete it. Instead he lay there in the dark, staring at the words glowing on the screen. And every time he read it he was more certain he had done the right thing.

 

* * *

 

 

While Seunghyun was having his difficult weekend Jiyong had been at home, enduring a considerable amount of worry himself. He would normally enjoy hogging their father’s attention without the feeling that he was constantly being measured against his older brother. But this time he couldn’t concentrate on his good fortune.

Was he jealous? he wondered, toying with his Macbook. The lyrics were pouring out of him today, and none of them were very cheery. No, he couldn’t be. Seunghyun had every right to spend time with his mother instead of him. It wasn’t jealousy, Jiyong decided. But he was uneasy about _something_.

He had told Seunghyun he loved him. Looking back, that was probably a very stupid thing to do; but he hadn’t been thinking straight, and his brother was being so kind to him. He had just blurted it out. What did Seunghyun think of _that_? Jiyong didn’t think he was angry, exactly – he had invited Jiyong to dinner, in public, and had been perfectly nice. But what had that meant? Maybe Seunghyun just felt sorry for him. Jiyong supposed he could live with that; it was a far sight better than how they had treated each other up to now.

Jiyong’s more pressing worry was how Seunghyun would act when he came back from the city. In the past, visits to his mother had resulted in fights and a level of meanness quite a bit more sophisticated than Seunghyun’s usual blunt nastiness. Jiyong had tried very hard not to resent his father’s ex-wife; but it was impossible given how much she clearly loathed him. He had only met her once or twice. Their father had brought him back to the house that first awful day, grief-stricken and completely confused. She had stared at him for a long minute, then picked up her bag and walked out. His father had sent him up to his new bedroom immediately, but by then Jiyong already knew that she hated him. And then Seunghyun had…

But no. Seunghyun was different now, Jiyong reassured himself, remembering the feel of his brother’s embrace, the glow of his amorous eyes. He just hoped that state of affairs would continue once he was back.

 

He knew it was going to be all right the second Seunghyun stepped through the door and dumped his overnight bag on the hall carpet. His brother kicked off his shoes and gave him that perfect smile.

“There you are.”

“Hi,” said Jiyong, fighting to contain his relief. He went to meet Seunghyun by the door.

“Where is everyone?” asked Seunghyun, glancing past him into the kitchen.

“Chan-mi went home already. Dad’s sunbathing.” Seunghyun nodded quickly and dragged him into a hug. Jiyong returned it with a delighted shiver.

“Missed me, did you?” came Seunghyun’s deep voice in his ear, lips against his skin for a brief moment. “You can show me how much tomorrow. So, what did you get up to yesterday?” asked Seunghyun coolly at a normal volume, letting him go and lugging his bag into the kitchen, where he started to rummage in the refrigerator.

“Street dance,” said Jiyong, perching on one of the high breakfast bar stools and basking in his brother’s civility. Seunghyun nodded.

“Still doing that, are you?”

“I’m pretty good, _actually_ ,” Jiyong informed him. Seunghyun emerged with a rice ball and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Modest, too.”

“I’ll show you sometime,” offered Jiyong. Seunghyun’s tawny eyes looked him up and down, lingering, and his handsome mouth quirked up in a smile.

“I’ll hold you to that.” Seunghyun turned to find a glass, and Jiyong relaxed. Maybe things were going to be all right. They sat in the kitchen in comfortable silence. A few minutes later their father came in. He looked round at his sons, beamed approvingly at their good behaviour, and jerked his thumb at the back garden.

“What are you kids, hermits? It’s nice out, and I’m done working. Let’s barbeque!” Seunghyun nodded and dived back into the fridge, while Jiyong was instructed to go and find the charcoal. He paused on his way out, watched his family deciding the menu. Seunghyun glanced up and smiled at him.

Jiyong genuinely thought this might be the high point of his life.

 

* * *

 

 

Chan-mi got back from her holiday, and Seunghyun’s explorations with Jiyong returned to their previous furtive state. For the next week Seunghyun spent more time researching how to satisfy Jiyong than actually doing it, but that was probably just as well; he didn’t want to feel as scared and useless as he had the last time. It had been pure fluke that Jiyong had liked it.

Sometimes Jiyong would wander into his room while he was online looking at embarrassing instructional websites and clearing his browser history every few minutes. The younger boy always seemed to know what he was doing; Seunghyun supposed his red face gave him away. Usually he would shut down his laptop immediately and glare at Jiyong until he left, but sometimes the kid was too fast. And if Seunghyun was being perfectly honest, there was probably part of him that welcomed Jiyong’s intrusions at such moments.

“…Will you do that to me?” asked Jiyong in a hushed voice, perched next to Seunghyun on his bed and staring at the screen.

“No way,” said Seunghyun, blushing. “Dunno how I even got to this page.” Jiyong laughed at him, and shuffled closer.

“How about this?” he demanded, scrolling up. Seunghyun looked.

“…Maybe.” Jiyong went quiet, as if imagining it, which made Seunghyun picture it too. Fuck, he was getting hard.

“When?” said Jiyong, swallowing audibly. Seunghyun chanced a look at him and wished he hadn’t; Jiyong’s round face was flushed, the tip of his tongue flicking out to touch his bottom lip. The younger boy moved in for a better look, hand resting on Seunghyun’s shoulder.

“When there’s time,” said Seunghyun firmly. He looked at Jiyong again – he couldn’t seem to help himself – and Jiyong kissed him lightly, his lips lingering a hair’s breadth from Seunghyun’s mouth. “Not while there are people here,” Seunghyun warned him. Jiyong kissed him again, and Seunghyun reached up to cup his jaw gently.

“It’s only Chan-mi,” pointed out Jiyong, “and she’s downstairs cooking.” He leaned into Seunghyun’s hand. “Can’t we look at your websites and just…think about it?”

“No!”

“Spoilsport.”

 

* * *

 

 

But the longer Seunghyun spent making do with snatched half-hours between their housekeeper leaving and their father getting home from work, the more tempting it was to give in to Jiyong’s invitations. Would it really be so dangerous, if they were quiet? _Yes_ , he decided, imagining the consequences with a shudder. They would have to wait.

And if he couldn’t have Jiyong in his bed, it didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy being with him. Seunghyun had decided – after his outburst at his mother’s house – that if he was going to fall this stupidly for Jiyong he ought really to know who it was he’d become so attached to. Seunghyun knew very well that he was a bad brother, but in this at least he could do better.

“What’re you doing?” he asked Jiyong that afternoon, picking his way across the clothes-strewn floor of his brother’s room; Jiyong was pretty finicky about his personal cleansing and beauty routine, but he sure didn’t mind making a mess. “Budge up, will you?” Jiyong shuffled over eagerly and made room for him on the bed. Seunghyun leaned up against the headboard beside him and peered at the book in his lap. “Social Science?”

“Well I have to do _some_ homework,” Jiyong said irritably, and came to rest against his side. “But I’ll never remember any of this shit.” Seunghyun slung a companionable arm round his shoulder.

“And how much have you done this holiday?”

“What’s the time now?” asked Jiyong drily. Seunghyun snorted. “All right, Mr. SNU,” Jiyong continued, digging him in the ribs with an elbow. “We all know you’re a straight-A student.”

“I’ll help you if you want.” Jiyong smiled at him.

“Thanks! You can. It won’t stick, though. Once you’re back at uni I’ll let it all drop again.”

“Do you really not like school?” asked Seunghyun, concerned. Did their father know? What was he doing to make sure Jiyong could get into college? Was he going to tutor the boy himself?

“Funny.” Jiyong snuggled down beside him, head on his shoulder. He shrugged. “I quite like Art. Maths is okay, as long as they stick to using numbers. Once the letters appear, I check out.”

“Is that what you want to do, then?” Seunghyun frowned and began to absently stroke the nape of his neck where the hair was so fine. “You could go down the engineering or architecture track, I guess, but most of those colleges want good science grades too.”

“…Shall I tell you a secret?” said Jiyong, after a minute, leaning back into Seunghyun’s hand. Seunghyun nodded. “I don’t want to go to university. I’m just not smart like that.”

“…Oh!” Seunghyun was nonplussed; what else would one do? Especially as a member of _their_ family. “Then what? Vocational training?”

“Sort of.” Jiyong sighed. “I wanna be a musician. Or at least a lyricist. But if I can, I’m going to be famous!” Seunghyun was about to open his big mouth and say what a preposterously unlikely idea that was. He sensibly thought better of it: Jiyong had only just started opening up, and according to him already had a persistent inferiority complex when it came to Seunghyun’s abilities. To burst his bubble now would only set them back.

“Have you talked to Dad about this?” he said instead. He knew he sounded doubtful. “How’s he going to react?”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Jiyong replied, and gave a bitter huff. “He knows I’m useless.”

“He does not!” retorted Seunghyun, who had until recently considered Jiyong a very dangerous rival for their father’s approbation. “He thinks you’re a pretty special kid.” He took a deep breath. “And so do I.” He glanced down and caught Jiyong smiling to himself in the sweetest way.

“Thanks, Tabi,” said Jiyong quietly.

“You told me before how you write a lot.” Seunghyun scratched his nails caressingly across Jiyong’s scalp, but soon stopped when the boy’s moan of approval took on a distinctly erotic tone. “Will you show me now?”

“…Okay,” agreed Jiyong after a minute, and slid off the bed to grab his Macbook and an untidy stack of papers hidden in his wardrobe. He spent some time looking through them with a scowl, then culled them to a dozen pages and climbed back up next to Seunghyun. “Some of them are for songs and some of them are for rap,” he explained. “Will you know which is which?”

“Probably,” said Seunghyun, who had a deep appreciation for the poetry and rhythm of the latter. He held out his hand and Jiyong passed them over timidly.

“I usually write at least one a day,” he informed the older boy. “To keep my hand in. So a lot of them suck, but still.”

“Prolific.” Seunghyun smoothed his free hand lightly over Jiyong’s hair. “Now hush.”

He fished his glasses out of his shirt pocket, then shuffled through until he found a rap and began to read. To his surprise and pleasure it was really not bad; certainly the sentiments were teenage, and there were at least nine places where Seunghyun could think of improvements to the phrasing or structure, but for a sixteen-year-old it was…

Jiyong was looking at him, lips pursed in a thin line. Seunghyun patted his knee and kept going. He was an extremely fast reader, and it didn’t take long to appraise them all. When he looked up, Jiyong’s face seemed very vulnerable. Seunghyun considered; he had intended to praise his little brother extravagantly whatever he found, to keep his confidence high and his mood sweet. But to his surprise he thought Jiyong actually _had_ something: he had a spark. And what was it Seunghyun was really trying to achieve by getting to know him? Did he simply want to keep the boy pleased with him, or did he actually want to help him? Which was more important: Jiyong’s ego or his development?

This was a new type of thinking for Seunghyun; he had never tried to be so considerate of another person. But sitting here in silence wasn’t going to make things any easier. Jiyong looked like he was already bracing himself for one of his trademark jabs. So Seunghyun went ahead and made up his mind.

“How good is your English?” he asked abruptly, staring at Jiyong over the top of his glasses. Jiyong gave him a startled blink; whatever he had been imagining, it apparently wasn’t that.

“…Not awful,” he said. “Not great. Enough to use a few phrases in the songs.”

“I mean reading comprehension.”

“Are we talking about school again?!” demanded Jiyong, sounding annoyed. “If you thought they were horrible, say so.”

“They’re not,” Seunghyun told him bluntly. “You’re good.” Jiyong inhaled sharply. “But you can be better.”

“How?” Seunghyun gazed at him consideringly. The kid seemed genuinely eager to know; he didn’t look sulky or offended at the implied criticism, as Seunghyun had thought he might.

“Do you listen to a lot of Western rappers? I mean the really good ones.”

“Like Fifty?”

“Famous doesn’t mean good,” Seunghyun informed him. Jiyong made a sceptical noise. “I’m talking about guys like Eminem.”

“Oh, sure, he’s good. I’ve got most of his old stuff.”

“When you listen to him, do you study the lyrics?”

“The translations, yeah.” Jiyong smirked. “He’s funny.”

“Yeah, he is. But that’s not all he is,” Seunghyun said, slipping into Tutor mode. “He’s funny in a really, really smart way. His songs aren’t just lyrical, they’re _poetic_. The best ones, anyway.” Jiyong was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head. Seunghyun smiled at him. “You probably noticed the little things he does with rhythm and stuff, right?”

“Yah.”

“Well, when you read the lyrics in English you can see all these other techniques he uses. Syllable patterns, rhyming tricks, wordplay, satire.” Seunghyun bumped Jiyong with his shoulder. “That’s the difference between _In Da Club_ and _Stan_ : one’s a cool song, and one’s a masterpiece. Do you get me?”

“No,” said Jiyong immediately. “But I want to!”

“All right,” Seunghyun said patiently, and gave his little brother an approving look. The face Jiyong showed him then was enough to tell Seunghyun this was all worth it. He leaned over to open the Macbook on Jiyong’s knee and did a quick lyric search, the younger boy’s cheek pressed against his own. “Now listen to this.” He read through a verse in English, taking care to preserve the speed and rhythm of the original. “And now let’s break it down line by line. Not all those tricks work in Korean; you can compare them to our rappers and figure out the differences. But I can show you how to use them on some of your lyrics.” Jiyong was quiet beside him. “What is it?” asked Seunghyun.

“…You’re so good at _everything_ ,” said Jiyong in a hushed voice. Seunghyun couldn’t tell if he was upset. “Even this. But I can’t-”

“Don’t get maudlin.” Seunghyun smacked him lightly upside the head, then kissed him quickly on the temple. “I’m just clever. I’m good at languages and attention to detail. That’s all. Anyone can study those things.” Jiyong hummed doubtfully. “But I think _you_ might have something,” Seunghyun told him, pondering how to articulate it. “I don’t know what it’s called, but I haven’t got it.” He thought. “Can you sing? I mean carry a tune?”

“Yes, but I haven’t got much power.”

“You’ve got one up on me, anyway. Show me.”

“Later,” promised Jiyong, looking rather overwhelmed.

“Fine.” Seunghyun leaned back and tugged his brother round to face him. Jiyong’s face glowed gold in the late afternoon light; Seunghyun wondered what he would look like when he lost his baby fat. “Be persistent,” he advised. “You can sing, you can allegedly dance, and you’re crazy cute. The writing is good for your age; keep doing it, learn from other artists, and let me help you sometimes with the language stuff. Or get yourself a proper mentor. Then, when the time comes, you can show Dad how seriously you’ve been working.”

“ _Tabi_ …” murmured Jiyong, looking stuffed full of emotions and like he was about to climb into Seunghyun’s lap.

“But until that time comes!” Seunghyun interrupted him, hurriedly picking up his discarded textbook and finding the carelessly folded page Jiyong was using as a bookmark, “We’re going to revise the history of women’s rights!”

“You’re such a tease,” Jiyong said in the most adoring way. Seunghyun grinned, and thought excitedly of his own furtive studies.

“Wait ‘til Dad next goes out drinking. _Then_ I’ll show you teasing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, all back on the smut train next chapter!  
> More to come soon :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun puts his research into practice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No plot development here! Just...well, you can guess :)

“I’m going to a conference tomorrow,” announced their father on Thursday. “I’ll stay over and play golf the second day so you two will have to amuse yourselves until Saturday evening.”

Jiyong felt himself flush to the tips of his ears. Finally! he thought disloyally.

“Is Chan-mi coming, at least?” enquired Seunghyun evenly, looking up from his phone. The older boy seemed quite collected; Jiyong tried his best to copy him. “Or do we have to fend for ourselves completely?”

“She’ll come Saturday morning to clean and do dinner. So act like human beings and keep the place tidy.” Their father nodded at Jiyong particularly.

“Yes, Dad.”

Their father went back to his newspaper. Jiyong took a calming breath and returned to his comic book; but when he next looked up he found Seunghyun appraising him covertly. His brother was staring at him like he was an enigmatic and exciting puzzle to be solved. Jiyong gulped and glanced aside. Seunghyun had been squirreled away on his computer for the last few days. And now Jiyong would have a whole night to experience the results of his research.

 

“Eat dinner first,” Seunghyun advised Jiyong when he got in the next day. He’d had to get out of the house, so had trekked into the city to go dancing with his friends; he didn’t think even Chan-mi would be a sufficient barrier to keep him away from his brother today. But now she was gone.

“Later,” Jiyong said, advancing on him.

“I made gimbap.”

“I’m not hungry.” Seunghyun gave him a slow smile that stopped him dead. Really, sometimes Jiyong couldn’t quite process how good-looking the other boy was; sometimes the sight of Seunghyun’s face caused a physical ache in his stomach, it was that perfect. He’d used to hate that. But tonight, at least, it was all for him.

“You’d better eat,” his brother said again, still smiling. “For the energy.” He leaned forward, lolling against the kitchen island, and lowered his voice. “Because what I’ve got planned is gonna take all night.”

And with that Jiyong was hard, which didn’t make him any hungrier for dinner. Spontaneous wood was enough of a problem at his age without the normally circumspect Seunghyun saying things like that.

“I’m just gonna…go get changed,” he muttered unconvincingly.

“If you touch yourself,” Seunghyun told him calmly, “I’m going to make you pay.”

“Oh, big threat,” managed Jiyong, imagining what form a punishment from his brother might take and feeling even hornier. Seunghyun laughed.

“Okay, okay. Just calm yourself down and come have dinner. I want to take things slow while we can.” Jiyong heaved a sigh.

“I’ll try.”

 

After dinner, which Jiyong had managed to shovel down despite the distractions, he drew Seunghyun into the den and pulled him down on the sofa.

“Here?” said Seunghyun, sounding vaguely uncomfortable. Jiyong slid into his arms. It felt so different in the family room now that it was just the two of them; now that they could do what they liked.

“I wanna find out what it’s like for normal people,” he explained. Seunghyun sighed, not dismissively but as though the turn of phrase depressed him. “You know what I mean,” said Jiyong. “Like we were in our own house. Like we can do what we want when we want. So just kiss me.”

Seunghyun nodded and allowed Jiyong to lean closer and brush their mouths together, slipping his long fingers through Jiyong’s hair as he started to unwind. Jiyong felt the older boy’s tongue nudge between his lips and let out a low, contented sound. This was exactly what he had meant.

They sat there kissing for a long, luxurious time; Seunghyun would not allow him to escalate it beyond soft nips to his neck and the hollow of his throat. But at last he tugged Jiyong to his feet and led him upstairs. Jiyong held on to him tightly. Being out in the wide-open space of the house felt very strange, dangerous but exciting. Seunghyun pushed him up against the wall at the top of the stairs, insinuated a knee between his thighs and kissed him breathlessly.

“I… _hated_ …waiting for this,” he told Jiyong in his deep, deep voice. “Just so you know!” The younger boy shivered – Seunghyun’s voice was incredible; the contrast with his own high tones as he moaned into his brother’s mouth was very unfair, but Seunghyun had one hand between his legs now and he couldn’t concentrate on sounding sexy. Jiyong grabbed him by the ass and pulled him closer, squeezing to hear the pleased rumble in the back of Seunghyun’s throat. He could feel Seunghyun’s erection against his hip.

“No more waiting.” Jiyong hurriedly set his fingers to the buttons of his brother’s shirt as Seunghyun’s mouth latched on to his neck. Seunghyun let him but set them moving again, stumbling in the direction of the big bathroom.

It seemed that trying to pace themselves had been a dumb idea: Seunghyun didn’t even pause for Jiyong to take his own clothes off – something he usually liked to watch – but took hold of him and stripped him down almost frantically, slapping the big shower on without remembering that he hadn’t got undressed himself. Jiyong laughed at him; but the soaked fabric clinging to his torso and the water drops sparkling on his skin looked pretty damn great, so he pushed himself against the bigger man, Seunghyun’s large hands on his ass to tug him closer and grind their erections together through the denim.

‘Tabi,” said Jiyong in a choked voice, “whatever your plan was, I’m not gonna make it! You’ve got to let me come _right now_ and then start over…!” The hot water hissed above them, half-blinding him and getting in his mouth as Seunghyun kissed him hungrily.

“All right,” growled Seunghyun, to Jiyong’s grateful surprise. Without bothering to remove his wet clothes he dropped to his knees on the tile and kissed his way rapidly down to Jiyong’s cock. “But after this we do it my way!” He ran his tongue once over the head, making the younger boy groan, then took the hard length of it into his mouth.

“ _Anything_ ,” promised Jiyong ecstatically as Seunghyun drew him deeper and closed his hands on his hips to steady him. Jiyong slid his fingers through his brother’s hair; he had to grab two handfuls of it and pull when Seunghyun swallowed him right down the base. “…How the hell are you doing _that_?!” he yelped, and felt Seunghyun laugh, holding him tight to keep him upright. Water drummed on the back of his neck, the bathroom filling with steam; Jiyong felt absolutely feverish, too hot and trembling at the same time.

“Ahh…!” He came almost embarrassingly fast, Seunghyun’s hair still twisted in his fingers. The older boy held him until he was done. Then he pulled back and licked his lips. “…How did you do that?” asked Jiyong, narrow chest heaving. He massaged the tips of his fingers against Seunghyun’s scalp, drawing circles that made his brother groan softly with pleasure. Jiyong remembered that Seunghyun must be very close, too.

“Practice,” Seunghyun told him hoarsely, blushing below the sheen of water on his sculpted features. Jiyong giggled; he wished he’d been there to see that. He felt languorous now, relaxed after days of waiting.

“See, Tabi,” he said chidingly, sinking to his knees so he could kiss Seunghyun on the lips, “you’re getting ahead of me with all your practice. It’s not fair!” He slid his hand persuasively over Seunghyun’s crotch; he wanted to return the favour so much: the thought of blowing Seunghyun was almost erotic enough to get him hard again. “You oughta let me catch up…”

“ _No_ ,” Seunghyun replied in immense frustration. Jiyong clicked his tongue, disappointed, but he hadn’t really expected anything different.

“Fine.” He planted another kiss on Seunghyun’s stubborn mouth; he could taste himself on his lips, which ought to be gross and wasn’t at all. “I’ll do something else for you, Tabi.” He resumed unbuttoning Seunghyun’s shirt – it was more difficult with the fabric heavy and sodden, but Seunghyun seemed to find his expression of concentration endearing – then peeled it off and flung it with a wet slap into the corner of the room. Unable to resist, he ran his fingers briefly down Seunghyun’s chest.

“You’re _so_ beautiful,” he said admiringly.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get on with it, I’m going crazy here!” Jiyong knew his brother was embarrassed at having people, even him, look at his body. He couldn’t understand why – Jiyong loved it when Seunghyun inventoried him all over with those big brown eyes – but accepted it as one of his charming quirks.

“Take your pants off,” Jiyong ordered him. He took Seunghyun’s face in both hands and nudged his tongue against the other boy’s lips until they parted and he could kiss him again, deep and tantalisingly slow. “Go sit over there.” Seunghyun heaved himself to his feet and began to struggle with the wet leather of his belt. Jiyong left him and padded over to the rack with its rows of toiletries, peering through his dripping fringe until he found the expensive liquid soap.

When he turned back Seunghyun was magnificently naked. He had set the big sunken bath running and was sitting by the edge of it, dangling his legs over the side.

“That’s right,” said Jiyong in a deliberate purr, stalking up behind him. He was going to give Seunghyun some professional service. He knelt down at his back and leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of Seunghyun’s ear. “I’m going to take care of you.” Seunghyun reached back for him. “Uh-uh!” Jiyong warned him teasingly. “Just relax, Tabi.”

“What’re you playing at?” Seunghyun demanded, impatience threading his tone. He tried to turn around and look, but Jiyong placed one finger on his temple and pushed his head back smartly. Once Seunghyun had subsided and was grumbling to himself with his hands clenched on the rim of the tub, Jiyong held up the bottle of soap and proceeded to squeeze it over himself until he was shining and slippery from the neck down.

“What are you gonna do to me, Tabi?” he asked in a whisper at the nape of Seunghyun’s neck. Seunghyun jumped as Jiyong’s lips made contact, then made a marvellous noise as his brother’s soapy body pressed against his back.

“ _Ohh_ my-!”

“Are you gonna put your fingers in again?” Jiyong murmured. “Are you gonna have me on my knees like last time?” He stretched up so that his chest and stomach slid sinuously across Seunghyun’s shoulders, then back down and even closer, his knees bracketing Seunghyun’s hips. Seunghyun groaned and grabbed for him again, but Jiyong slapped his hands away. “…Are you gonna make me beg?” he continued. His slippery hands glided around Seunghyun’s ribcage to slowly soap his chest. The older boy was taut and quivering, and Jiyong hadn’t even gone near his cock. Jiyong was pleased with his own seductive skills.

“ _Please_ ,” said Seunghyun desperately; his knuckles were white from gripping the edge of the bath. Jiyong mentally high-fived himself and continued his lazy movements, rubbing himself teasingly against Seunghyun’s back until creamy white bubbles began to form from the soap. It smelled good, too, not that Seunghyun was likely to be thinking about that. He added more to his hands.

The instant he touched Seunghyun’s erection he caught a low gasp, then the firming of Seunghyun’s jaw that meant he was gritting his teeth. He closed his fingers around it – he loved the way it felt, loved the apprehension that came with the idea of having it inside him one day. The thought of it was causing his excitement to rise again, slowly but steadily, and he pressed himself more deliberately into Seunghyun.

“Had enough?” he purred in the older boy’s ear, ready to finish now so Seunghyun could begin on him again. Seunghyun took a harsh breath.

“…Never enough of you,” he said thickly, and at that Jiyong gave in and kissed him, leaning over his shoulder to meet his eager lips while his right hand continued its steady rhythm. He felt Seunghyun’s weight come to rest on him, felt the heat and pulsing under his fingers that told him his brother was close. Jiyong cupped his balls and squeezed them gently. Seunghyun disobediently grabbed at him again, caught him, then his hands missed their grip in the shining soap and slid away. Jiyong grinned into the kiss and sped up; Seunghyun was panting against his lips and at last he came, mingling with the water wetting Jiyong’s slim fingers.

Jiyong held him tightly until he felt his tall frame relax. Then he let him go and came to sit beside him companionably.

“Where…did you learn how to do that?” muttered Seunghyun, sounding dopey. Jiyong shrugged.

“I didn’t. I just did it.”

“How do you _think_ of this stuff?”

“I guess I’m a natural,” said Jiyong smugly, and smiled up at him. Seunghyun rested his head on the smaller boy’s shoulder, breathing in the clean smell of his skin. Jiyong’s slow brain cells pushed half a thought at him. “…You do like it, don’t you?” he checked. “You don’t think it’s too…” He groped for the word. “… _Forward_?” Maybe Seunghyun’s reticence wasn’t due to his age at all; perhaps he just disapproved of partners who took the initiative. Should he act more docile?

“Quit worrying yourself,” said Seunghyun. “You’re perfect, as well you know.”

Jiyong reached for his hand, feeling quite touched, and they sat there in the steam for a while, relaxed as ragdolls. Seunghyun’s aura beside him was very tranquil. But before long Jiyong’s youthful libido woke up and decided it was ready for some more pampering. He was trying to decide how to drop a subtle hint when Seunghyun’s hand eased its grip on his own and dropped onto his knee. It proceeded to drift up the soft flesh of Jiyong’s inner thigh, the light callouses on his fingertips drawing pleasurable shivers out of Jiyong’s skin.

“You want to start properly now?”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Jiyong. Seunghyun patted his thigh and got up.

“All right. Back in a minute!”

“Where-” began Jiyong, annoyed. But Seunghyun had already left the bathroom. Jiyong sighed, then got under the shower to rinse off. He turned down the spray until it was a warm mist on his skin and tipped his head back, basking in the steam. When he opened his eyes again Seunghyun was in front of him, watching him with a small, ambiguous smile on his face. Jiyong’s gaze fell to the large rolled bundle in Seunghyun’s hand; his brother was swinging it absently from the cord tying it closed, as if looking at Jiyong had made him forget it was there.

“What’s that?” Jiyong nodded at it. The older boy started, then grinned.

“Just want you to be comfortable.” He undid the roll and Jiyong saw it was a foam yoga mat. It must have been Seunghyun’s mother’s, he decided; neither of the older men in the house would have a use for such a thing. Seunghyun spread it on the tiles and stamped on it to flatten it out. He turned to put one arm around Jiyong’s waist and draw him close. “I’m gonna have you on your back a long time.”

Jiyong caught his breath at the thought of that, his pupils dilating at the image of Seunghyun finally fucking him on the floor of the bathroom. He knew the other boy wouldn’t, but it didn’t hurt to fantasise. Seunghyun took both his hands and lowered him down, looming over him invitingly. Jiyong spread his legs and let Seunghyun settle between them, then curled them around his hips to feel his weight.

“I wish we could do this every day,” Jiyong murmured wistfully. He arched up to feel Seunghyun’s torso against his own and wrapped his arms around the older boy’s back. The thought of his brother returning to his dorm when the new semester started was too awful a prospect to dwell on; what would they do then, have cam sex?

“Me too,” Seunghyun told him. “But we’re here now…” He kissed Jiyong’s lips, then his wet throat. “So let me do this properly.”

“What ‘this’?” demanded Jiyong.

“You’ll see. Hopefully.” Jiyong felt Seunghyun’s hands grasp his hips and then slide round to his ass; those long fingers started kneading his buttocks indulgently, squeezing hard enough that the smaller boy was lifted clear off the floor. “I freaking _love_ your butt,” stated Seunghyun, before his teeth closed lightly on Jiyong’s nipple. Jiyong whimpered and pushed up into his mouth.

“Not…that much, apparently!” he managed. He would needle Seunghyun for refusing to fuck him until his brother gave in out of pure exasperation, if that was what it took.

‘We’ll see.” And with that Seunghyun knelt up, disengaging Jiyong’s arms from around his neck and laying them out on the mat above his head. “Now, can you be a good boy and stay like that?”

“Depends what you’re gonna do,” said Jiyong unhelpfully. The bigger man’s hand clasping his wrists together felt very strong; Jiyong found he liked the sensation. Seunghyun just gave him a small private smile and let go, spreading Jiyong’s legs and pushing his knees back to raise his hips from the floor. Before Jiyong could react Seunghyun was easing one long finger inside him, terribly slowly, the digit already wet. Jiyong gasped happily; it was still a strange, uncertain feeling, but already he liked it better than last time because now he could see Seunghyun’s face. His brother was biting his lip in concentration and looked thoroughly, ridiculously handsome.

“Is it okay?” asked Seunghyun, his free hand spread across Jiyong’s thigh. Jiyong nodded quickly and Seunghyun pushed further before pulling out gently and repeating the movement. He kept one eye on Jiyong’s expression. Jiyong felt his own eyes widen as Seunghyun bent his finger; the angle changed and so did the feeling inside him, a sudden vague pressure in the pit of his stomach. “Hurts?” demanded Seunghyun.

“…No,” murmured Jiyong, considering the sensation. He discovered his hands had closed themselves into fists. Seunghyun looked at him narrowly and slowed the pace even further. Jiyong caught his breath and focused on relaxing, and when the movements of his chest had eased he felt his brother change to another angle. “Ahh!”

“I know, baby,” Seunghyun told him, and that made him smile; Seunghyun didn’t seem the type to use terms of endearment spontaneously, but Jiyong liked that he’d tried. “But I need to stretch you a little bit before the next one…” The older boy clammed up after that, as if mortally embarrassed by what he’d just said.

“Just keep doing…what you’re doing.” Jiyong swallowed and leaned deliberately into his touch. “It’s all good…”

“ _You_ ,” started Seunghyun, then just shut up and looked at him admiringly. He kept up the movements of his finger until Jiyong was erect and happy beneath him. Jiyong felt the push of the second digit much more distinctly; added to the first the width created a stretch that was not quite comfortable and was entirely new.

“ _Tabi_ ,” mewled Jiyong, and let his head fall back against the yoga mat. Seunghyun was massaging the pads of his fingers just inside his entrance, pressing and exploring. The older boy was watching him breathlessly. Jiyong felt protected and entirely the centre of attention.

“Lube,” Seunghyun pronounced as an experimental push with his two fingers made Jiyong flinch without meaning to. “You’re too tight.’ Jiyong experienced a mild sense of relief when Seunghyun pulled out and turned to grab the massage oil from before, but also impatience and regret; he didn’t want to be any less connected to Seunghyun than he had to be.

When Seunghyun’s fingers returned they were slick and smooth and slipped inside easily up to the second knuckle. Jiyong gathered himself enough to peer down his body and see Seunghyun’s wrist move between his thighs as his brother thrust carefully deeper. That sensation of pressure, an almost-ache in his stomach came back. Jiyong was trying to decide if he liked it or not when Seunghyun began to move more rhythmically, which made the heat rush to his cheeks and his heart begin racing. Then he felt Seunghyun’s fingers spread apart deep inside him, and that made him moan involuntarily and clutch at the mat. A moment later they resumed their steady thrusts.

“ _Fuck_ ,” breathed Jiyong shakily, and moaned again. “I want…”

“What do you want?” Seunghyun sounded concerned but also calculating; when Jiyong met his eyes they were gleaming. “Less, or more?”

“…I don’t know.” Jiyong was starting to feel out of control. He couldn’t tell if this was good or bad; it was just _intense_.

“All right,” muttered Seunghyun thoughtfully and did one of those weird direction changes, fingers pressing against Jiyong in a different place. Jiyong made another noise, Seunghyun’s expression changed, and that was when Jiyong knew he was up to something: Seunghyun was so obviously evaluating him.

“Is this…your ‘research’?” gasped Jiyong as the even rhythm started up again. That felt good, or was beginning to, now that he had decided the pressure and the stretching sensation were pleasurable.

“Yup.” Seunghyun leaned forward and hooked Jiyong’s slim leg over his shoulder, stroking his calf in a soothing motion. That pushed his fingers even deeper. Jiyong’s lips parted on a whine before he realised it didn’t hurt; if anything it made him harder. It was getting difficult to keep his hands to himself now.

“Touch me!” he ordered, shifting his hips down onto Seunghyun’s probing fingers to see if more would feel even better.

“Touch yourself,” his brother answered distractedly. “I’m busy.” He was still wearing that frown of concentration as he probed and stroked at Jiyong’s passage between the regular thrusts.

“What’re you, my doctor…?” Jiyong tipped his head back as Seunghyun moved his wrist at yet another angle. “Mmn! …What are you _doing_ , Tabi?”

“You’ll know when I do it. _If_ ,” Seunghyun amended, sounding frustrated. Jiyong made a complaining noise and felt Seunghyun’s lips brush the inside of his knee.

“What…weird…websites have you been reading?” muttered Jiyong. “Just keep doing it like you were… _please_ , it’s so good when you’re deep like that!”

“It’s a proven medical phenomenon,” Seunghyun said stubbornly, although Jiyong could see the aroused flush at the top of the other boy’s high cheekbones. He pushed one of his knees beneath Jiyong’s lower back to tilt his hips up higher.

“That doesn’t sound very sexy to – _mmnn_!” Jiyong’s grumble was cut off abruptly as Seunghyun moved his fingers again, this time hitting a place that turned Jiyong’s whole vision white and made him cry out in shock, as if all the orgasms he had ever had were contracted to a single point deep within him.

“Yes!” exclaimed Seunghyun triumphantly, giving Jiyong’s hip a slap. “Hang on, lemme see if I can…”

“ _Holyfuckingshit_!!” cried Jiyong as it happened again and then vanished. He heard his own frantic panting and then Seunghyun’s amazed chuckle.

“Told you.” Seunghyun began to do it the normal way again, and when Jiyong’s eyes fluttered open he saw an expression of mixed smugness and awe on his handsome face. “Did you like it?” asked Seunghyun, running a hand over his stomach. Every inch of Jiyong’s skin felt over-sensitized; the brush of Seunghyun’s palm almost hurt, while the fingers inside him were pure magic. “ _This_ says you did,” the older boy murmured, touching Jiyong’s hard-on lightly. Jiyong sucked in a sharp breath.

“I’ll go crazy,” he whispered, meaning it, “if you do that again…!”

“Go crazy then,” said Seunghyun simply. “You’ve never looked as perfect as you did just now.” He continued what he was doing, and Jiyong was just feeling settled when Seunghyun crooked his fingers and hit that spot inside him again, pausing this time to brush lightly over it before resuming the regular motion.

“Ahh…Oh, _fuck you_ , what _is_ that..?!” groaned Jiyong, smacking his head back in a long instant of pained delight and reaching down to fumble for Seunghyun’s wrist. Seunghyun was thrusting harder now, moving Jiyong’s small frame with every push and observing him with a delighted grin. Whenever Jiyong began to relax he would do that _thing_ again to hear the younger boy cry out.

“You get so tight when I do that.” Seunghyun’s low voice was caressing, but his expression was extremely excited, Jiyong thought, when he could open his eyes long enough to concentrate; he squeezed them shut again when those long fingers spread themselves inside him to open him out. Jiyong felt so full like that, and gained some small inkling of how it would be when Seunghyun finally took him.

With every repeat of the cycle Seunghyun’s attentions to that ecstatic spot grew more sustained, stimulating it for long seconds that dragged out for Jiyong in an intolerable wave of pleasure. In time it became almost continuous, and by then Jiyong was on the verge of crying.

“Please, _please_ ,” he begged unashamedly, “I’m so damn close, _please_ let me come…!”

“No.” Seunghyun leaned forward to kiss him, bending his leg back towards his chest.

“No…?” echoed Jiyong stupidly, fighting for breath and feeling totally brainless.

“I said you’d be here a while,” Seunghyun reminded him. With that he removed his fingers, grabbed his brother by the hip and the shoulder and turned him onto his front. Jiyong felt the bigger boy’s body loom over him again as Seunghyun bent to speak into his ear. “And you did ask if I was going to have you on your knees…”

Seunghyun was erect. Jiyong could feel it against the inside of his thigh, and was so horribly turned on himself that he thought he might very well lose the plot if Seunghyun didn’t take him _right now_. He seemed empty since the older boy had stopped that tortuous, delicious touching and pulled out of him; Seunghyun had prodded and pushed and stretched him almost all the way to orgasm, and he _knew_ he was ready.

“Please, Tabi,” he implored, shifting his leg to tease Seunghyun’s cock. Seunghyun’s hands tightened on his hips, and Jiyong knew he wanted to. “Just do it…! You’ve got me so totally ready, come _on_ …!” For a moment he thought Seunghyun really might; he felt him shift, felt his thumb skim tenderly around his entrance as if testing him. Then,

“ _No_ ,” said Seunghyun shakily. “Stop asking.” And he slid his fingers in again.

“…I will when you stop _teasing_!” exclaimed Jiyong miserably. It felt different now he was on his knees, but just as good. Then Seunghyun began his experimental nudging again, all the strange uncomfortable and aching angles. Jiyong knew what he was doing this time, at least: he was trying to find that place with the younger boy the other way up, and when he did Jiyong knew he was in for that hell of pleasure again.

“You feel that?” murmured Seunghyun, and finally hit it, making Jiyong keen between his teeth and drop his head onto his folded arms.

“You evil _bastard_ …! Oh, god, it’s so good…”

“That’s what it’s like for me when you keep tempting me to fuck you,” Seunghyun informed him, stopping. Jiyong snarled in frustration. “It’s the biggest tease ever. So quit it.”

“I will,” gasped Jiyong.

“Promise,” Seunghyun ordered, pushing into him hard enough that he was rocked forward.

“I promise…” moaned Jiyong immediately, not because he meant it but because right now he would do anything, _anything_ to get off.

“Thank you,” said Seunghyun in a relieved voice, and without a pause he reached round to take Jiyong’s neglected erection in one hand while with the other he pressed his fingertips against that spot and held them there, rubbing across it as he jerked his little brother into an explosive orgasm. It was so intense that Jiyong thought he might pass out, and when it began to fade he was so grateful he wanted to burst into tears.

“ _Wow_ ,” was all Seunghyun breathed behind him, milking Jiyong’s hard-on firmly until he was finished.

“…That was…insane,” gasped Jiyong as he lay there trembling, his hips still supported by Seunghyun’s strong hands. “Now let me-”

“I’m not done.” And Seunghyun started to move his fingers again, so slowly and gently, his free hand rubbing comforting circles on Jiyong’s lower back. Jiyong shook his head; that was impossible. But Seunghyun didn’t stop. “I don’t think you were taking that promise seriously. Let’s try it again.”

“ _You’re_ insane!” Jiyong managed in a croak. Even as young as they both were, Seunghyun couldn’t possibly expect him to get hard yet. Seunghyun huffed in amusement and planted a fond kiss between his shoulder-blades. “Please, Tabi,” Jiyong begged again, though this time for the exact opposite reason. He was afraid he might burst into tears right there, he felt so over-stimulated and fragile. “I just came…!”

“And I think you can come again,” said Seunghyun. “Eventually.” He paused.

“…What?” asked Jiyong weakly, as Seunghyun remained poised above him. When the older boy spoke it was against the shivering skin at the back of his neck.

“Idiot,” murmured Seunghyun in his deep, sensual voice. “I’m waiting. You know I wouldn’t do anything without your permission, right? So…”

Jiyong was shuddering and exhausted, but he wanted to please his brother, who had gone to all this effort to learn to please _him_. That was the reason, he told himself, and not the licentious voice inside telling him to let himself enjoy that pleasure again.

“I…dammit, okay…!”

“You’re _sensational_ ,” Seunghyun informed him, and began to move again. “You’re going to like it.”

Jiyong allowed himself to cry then, with the prospect of so much cruel pleasure ahead. And, as his brother had predicted, eventually it happened, and ‘like’ was too weak a word.

 

Jiyong lay in Seunghyun’s bed, absolutely wiped out. After that final drawn-out orgasm Seunghyun had somehow got himself off – Jiyong was too exhausted to remember that bit – then cleaned the younger boy up and half-carried him down the hall to his bedroom. Jiyong didn’t know where Seunghyun was now; probably sorting out the bathroom, while he lay here boneless and dazed and getting damp from his wet hair all over his brother’s pillow.

He woke up to see Seunghyun climbing in beside him. The older boy had got dressed in sweatpants and a long-sleeved tshirt, but that was no surprise. Jiyong himself was still naked, and didn’t think he’d have the energy to put on clothes ever again.

“All right?” enquired Seunghyun warmly. Jiyong held out his limp arms and Seunghyun burrowed under the covers to pull him close. Jiyong transferred his head from the pillow to Seunghyun’s chest. “You are the most amazing person,” his brother informed him, and gave a deeply gratified sigh.

“That thing you did,” murmured Jiyong sleepily. “Did you know it would be like that?”

“What was it like?” Seunghyun began to stroke his hair. Jiyong considered.

“…Like the end of the world. Only good.” He felt Seunghyun laugh, a silent vibration within his chest.

“I didn’t know that. I just read that it felt nice.” Seunghyun paused. “I don’t think I could make you feel that good by fucking you.”

“It’s not about that,” said Jiyong, flopping one arm across Seunghyun’s chest. He wondered how many months they would spend having this argument before his brother relented. “It’s about being close to you. Isn’t it the most intimate thing?”

“Didn’t that feel intimate tonight?” demanded Seunghyun. Jiyong yawned.

“Yeah. So just think how close real sex would make us.”

“Maybe too much,” Seunghyun muttered earnestly, but Jiyong was too sleepy to answer him. “I’ll wake you up before morning.” His brother kissed the top of his head. “You’d better be back safe in your own room.”

“…What’ll we do tomorrow?” asked Jiyong, who was so sated he didn’t think he’d be able to get it up for at least twenty-four hours. Seunghyun yawned too; it was contagious.

“Tomorrow we’re gonna watch _2001_. You’re a cultural ignoramus. And I wanna cook something for Dad while Chan-mi’s here. I’ll tell him you helped,” he offered generously.

“…Love you,” said Jiyong softly, and drifted off. It was getting easier to admit.

“I know,” came Seunghyun’s quiet reply. He sounded moved, and grateful; and yet, somewhere at the back of his drowsy mind, Jiyong thought he also sounded frightened. But perhaps that was just a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! More to come soon ^^


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong does something he never thought he would do, and Seunghyun reaches a crisis point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is dirty. Ooh, yes, dirty. Plus some angst. Enjoy!

Seunghyun was in love. He could finally admit it to himself, if not to Jiyong. Over the next two weeks the conviction only deepened. There wasn’t a lot of time for sex; but just being with Jiyong around the house or out in Seoul was enough to convince him. Learning his little brother’s character for the first time – his abilities, his humour, his moods – brought something out in Seunghyun: a levity and kindness he didn’t know he had. Seunghyun helped the younger boy with schoolwork when he could get him to concentrate, and more often with his writing, sitting squashed together in Jiyong’s messy bedroom. Jiyong sang for him, and danced, with a mixture of showoff and shyness that was extremely charming.

Their father was happy too. Seunghyun had never been quite aware of how deep the man’s disappointment was that his sons had not become friends. Now he would drop into the den after work when they were watching movies or playing video games, and sometimes join in. He didn’t ask what had happened to suddenly stop their antagonism – maybe he was afraid to, in case he broke their truce – but Seunghyun could feel the way he looked at them, so fondly and proudly it made the older boy warm all over. It was as good as any praise their father had ever given him. And it was all thanks to Jiyong.

Yes, Seunghyun was in love. And it petrified him.

There was a constant awareness in the back of his mind that what they were doing was a sin. Both Seunghyun’s parents were religious, though his mother more than his father, and while Seunghyun hadn’t spent much time thinking about God since he became a teenager, deep down he suspected he still believed it all. It hadn’t been enough to stop him; but the deeper his feelings for Jiyong became the more it niggled at him, for his brother’s sake more than his own.

More pressing was the guilt over what their affair would do to the younger boy psychologically. Seunghyun had tried to be careful so far, though he knew he was doing a lousy job; he wanted Jiyong to have a proper future. He did not want him to go through dating, marriage, children, knowing that he had lost his virginity to his big brother; that would surely taint Jiyong’s relationships for the rest of his life.

And quite apart from the monumental question of sex, Seunghyun was afraid for his heart. The longer he spent with Jiyong, the closer he sensed them straying to some indefinable line, some spiritual addiction from which there would be no coming back. He saw it in Jiyong’s dark eyes as they followed him around the room, and felt it in his own growing yearning for the boy’s company. What would that do to Jiyong’s plans? Seunghyun knew now that the kid had some real, genuine talent. How far would he get in his quest for success with this horrible taboo hanging over him?

It hit Seunghyun even harder when he realised he was enabling Jiyong’s juvenile delinquent tendencies. The high school term began earlier than his own semester, and Jiyong had gone back to class complaining about it. Seunghyun was helping him study in the evenings, but found himself missing the boy wildly during the day.

The first time Jiyong played hooky he said he was sick; Seunghyun had even believed him until Chan-mi went out shopping and the kid perked right up and climbed into his lap. Seunghyun had scolded him but let him, because he couldn’t help himself.

Then that Friday their father announced he would be away for the night again, and Seunghyun found himself already planning how much play they could fit into their hours alone after school. The more he was kept from access to Jiyong’s body the more desperately he wanted it; it surely wasn’t healthy.

Chan-mi left at lunchtime, so Seunghyun settled down to some studying of his own. Undergraduate work was easy for him; still, if he wanted to stay ahead he had to focus. But almost as soon as the housekeeper’s car had gone Seunghyun sensed someone in the house. He left his book on his bed and crept down the stairs clutching the nearest blunt instrument to hand, which unfortunately was a replica lightsaber.

“What were you planning to do with _that_?” asked Jiyong with raised eyebrows as Seunghyun stalked into the kitchen. Seunghyun exhaled in exasperation.

“For fuck’s sake, I thought you were a burglar! What are you doing back, huh?” Jiyong gave him a crooked little smile, resplendent in his school uniform.

“You think I’m gonna waste my time on Geography while we’ve got an empty house?”

“Get your ass back to school,” Seunghyun told him firmly, suppressing a pang of desire at the sight of his brother’s slim figure in its outfit. Jiyong had loosened his tie to bare his throat in the heat. “How will you pass your term exams like this?!” Whatever Jiyong planned to do with his life, thought Seunghyun, he _had_ to graduate, even if he scraped through.

“Come on,” said Jiyong persuasively. “Please? You’re going back to college soon, and it’s just one afternoon. I want to be with you while I can.”

“I…” Seunghyun felt himself give in as soon as Jiyong gave him that trademark pout; just imagining those sweet lips on his body was enough to dissolve all his moral fibre. Jiyong grinned when he saw that he had won and returned to what he was doing at the kitchen counter.

“…I missed you,” Seunghyun confessed helplessly, dropping the lightsaber in embarrassment and wrapping his arms around his brother from behind. Jiyong tipped his head back to bare his throat invitingly, and hummed lazily as Seunghyun kissed it.

“You see me every day. But I know.”

“Not like this,” agreed Seunghyun. “There’s always someone traipsing in and out of this house.” Jiyong finished pouring himself a glass of juice, took a sip, then offered it to him. He slid one hand across Seunghyun’s forearm and stood leaning into his embrace quietly.

“D’you think Dad has a new mistress?” he asked, out of the blue. “Are you buying all this stuff about conferences and golf?”

“Oh.” Seunghyun paused. It was an uncomfortable thought, but not one that outraged him like it would have done had it been suggested a month ago. It dawned on him then just how high a status Jiyong had assumed for him: his brother was now so important that his relationships with everyone else were starting to feel muffled. He hadn’t spoken to his mother in over a fortnight, not since their almost-row. Hopefully it was a phase; Seunghyun had heard it was often like that when you got a new lover. Things would soon even themselves out again. But…what if they didn’t?

“Would you mind if he did?” Jiyong probed. But Seunghyun was still thinking about their own situation.

“I guess…not if he cared about her.” He made a face. “I know what it’s like now. To want someone badly enough that you’ll lie to everyone.”

“Yes,” said Jiyong softly, and patted his arm. “But today you can have as much of me as you need.”

 

They spent a delicious hour in Seunghyun’s bed, the sense of urgency stilled by the knowledge that they had until morning to get their fill of each other. Jiyong, still pleased with his school-skipping victory, pushed Seunghyun down on the covers and sat on him, removing all his clothes but his school tie and then using both hands to get them off together while Seunghyun gazed up at him like an obedient piece of property. He liked it, he found; Jiyong’s sly grin when he was getting his own way was simply beautiful, his brother’s cock pressed hot against his while Jiyong’s slender fingers worked them over.

“There,” panted Jiyong, once they had both come over Seunghyun’s stomach. “Wasn’t that worth a missed lesson or two?”

“…You’re extremely naughty,” managed Seunghyun. Jiyong looked right at him and stuck one finger in his mouth, licking it clean. Seunghyun watched his pink tongue, mesmerised; he wanted to feel those lips wrapped around him, and had to tell himself sharply to stop it.

“Yeah, I _know_ ,” said Jiyong, and swallowed. Then he started giggling. Seunghyun punched him chidingly in the arm, but couldn’t stifle his own laugh. Jiyong got off him. “You’re so dumb. I was being sexy.”

“Whatever you say.” Seunghyun reached out to swat him on the buttocks. Jiyong yelped. “How about being someone who gets me a sandwich?” Jiyong went to the cupboard, extracted a sports towel and threw it at him.

“Clean up. Then _you_ make lunch.”

“Brat. Is this how you talk to your elders?” Seunghyun wiped himself down. “Just you wait. I’m gonna teach you a lesson.”

“When?” demanded Jiyong eagerly.

“When you beg me.” He saw the kid’s eyes get even darker with arousal. Seunghyun flopped back on the bed. He was going to have to pace himself.

 

That night Jiyong locked the bathroom door and stepped under the shower next to Seunghyun. He knew the older boy was irritated with him for missing school – especially with all the help he was giving Jiyong – but he was unable to feel guilty. Seunghyun would be gone so soon; two more weeks and then Jiyong would only see him at weekends, if Seunghyun could spare that much time for him. Jiyong had always understood the meaning of heartache; it was overused in the lyrics of countless cheesy songs, but he knew it was a real thing. In the past it had always meant bitterness and grief to him, and to be honest that had been largely Seunghyun’s fault. He hadn’t known it could be like _this_ : the sweetness of Seunghyun’s presence and the painful thought of him leaving. But now he looked up at his brother and found it was literally true; his chest did ache.

“When you look like that,” Seunghyun said, just audible above the hiss of water, “it’s very hard to want to punish you.”

“How about this, then?” retorted Jiyong; he shook off his wistful mood and curled one side of his mouth up in a smile that made the colour rise in Seunghyun’s face.

“Better.” Seunghyun pounced and grabbed him, tugging him under the hot shower and spinning him round to face the wall. Jiyong made an approving noise as Seunghyun kissed his way across the back of his neck, then grabbed the soap and slowly washed him all over. By the time the older boy’s hands had dropped to his cock Jiyong was leaning against the wet tiles for support and breathing heavily. He had never felt so clean in his life; Seunghyun was titillatingly thorough, soaping his hair and behind his ears and even parting his legs to push a lathered finger inside him.

“ _Ohh_ ,” breathed Jiyong, who wasn’t expecting it so soon. “If you start that now…I’m gonna fall over!” Seunghyun laughed in his ear, so deep it was almost inaudible. He thrust teasingly once or twice, then slowly removed the digit and pulled Jiyong back under the water to rinse him off. “What now…?” Jiyong asked, licking his lips to make Seunghyun lean in and kiss them.

“First,” ordered Seunghyun, “get in the bath.” Jiyong padded over and stepped down into the deep water with its creamy bubbles. “On your knees,” Seunghyun instructed him. “Like before.” Deciding to play along for the time being, Jiyong leant over the edge of the bath and rested his elbows on the tile. He knew by now how much Seunghyun liked the look of him this way. His brother splashed into the bath behind him. Jiyong looked round and gave him another devilish smile.

“Second,” said Seunghyun. “Quit playing hooky!” And before Jiyong could think of a smart rejoinder Seunghyun had raised his hand and smacked him hard on the ass.

“Ow!!” Jiyong yelped. He hadn’t been spanked since he was about six years old, and never hard enough to sting like this! He didn’t even have time to take a breath before Seunghyun thwacked him again. “Fucking fuck!” said Jiyong articulately, as tears sprang to his eyes. The third time he let out a sharp moan; his ass was really smarting now. Then Seunghyun’s hand was touching him again, but this time gently, palm smoothing over the reddened skin.

“Sorry, now, are you?” asked Seunghyun, sounding incredibly turned on. He trailed his fingers over the curve of Jiyong’s buttock.

“You kinky bastard…!” Jiyong wriggled in protest, which caused the older boy to let out a low, excited noise behind him. “You’d like me all tied up, I bet.”

“Third,” said Seunghyun thickly, “come here.” He wrapped one arm around Jiyong’s chest and hauled him back into the bath, then sat down and set him in his lap. Jiyong put up a token struggle, more to feel Seunghyun’s hard-on pushing against him than to try and get away. In the end he dropped his head back on Seunghyun’s shoulder and let the bigger man take his weight.

“Pervert,” Jiyong said mildly, nudging himself down against Seunghyun’s hopeful erection. He heard Seunghyun grunt in aroused irritation.

“Stop that.” Seunghyun’s mouth found the smooth juncture where Jiyong’s neck met his shoulder and proceeded to kiss him, increasing the pressure until Jiyong was sure he would leave a mark on the skin. He thought he liked the idea: a visible symbol of his brother’s desire. He relaxed, and Seunghyun’s hands slid down to his inner thighs to push his legs apart.

Jiyong knew what was coming, and sure enough one of those marvellous fingers was soon massaging him, on and on without getting anywhere so that soon Jiyong was undulating his lithe hips to try and get it inside him. Seunghyun obliged at last, one hand on his flat stomach to hold him still while the other worked to slowly spread him under the water. Jiyong gasped as the second finger eased its way deeper and scissored out. Seunghyun was murmuring praise and affectionate words into his neck.

“Wait…” panted Jiyong. Seunghyun stopped immediately; he was so careful of him when they were like this. Jiyong swallowed. “No, I mean…I want to see you.” He gingerly raised himself to his knees, missing Seunghyun’s invading fingers already. Seunghyun helped him turn round. That was better: Jiyong could look at him now, see that beautiful face and its expression of amazed gratitude as he sank back onto Seunghyun’s digits.

“Is it good?” Seunghyun asked quietly, gazing up at his brother with a glazed expression while his fingers continued to work.

“So good,” Jiyong assured him. He stroked his fingers lightly up the shaft of Seunghyun’s cock; it was pleasant to be able to touch him like this. Much as Jiyong adored being spoiled, he felt bad that it was always Seunghyun putting in the real effort – though judging by his face there was plenty enough pleasure in being allowed to do it. Seunghyun hadn’t hit that ecstatic spot inside him yet. Either he hadn’t found it in this position or he was planning to drag things out until Jiyong was begging him again. For now he worked on setting up a rhythm, lowering his head to bite at Jiyong’s collarbone and play with his small, hard nipples. Jiyong wrapped one arm around his neck and stroked the hair back from his forehead.

When a third finger began to nudge inside him Jiyong took a sharp breath with a whine behind it. That felt like a _lot_ more. Seunghyun watched him closely as he started to work it in. When Jiyong bit his lip he stopped and added oil; it wasn’t as effective under the water, but it helped.

“Do it yourself,” Seunghyun suggested. “Just…take as much as you can as slow as you like.” He set his free hand to Jiyong’s lower back to balance him, then held his fingers steady. Jiyong exhaled slowly and sank down onto them, his thighs taut around Seunghyun’s hips as he allowed the tips of his fingers to penetrate him. He shifted his weight and felt the angle change; that felt weird, so he leaned forward again and let himself sink further. He could feel himself stretching, and it was very peculiar, but the look on Seunghyun’s flushed face made him want to keep going.

“Good boy,” Seunghyun encouraged him, kissing him teasingly on the lips. “Doing so well…” Jiyong moaned into his mouth and continued. That ache was back now, in the pit of his stomach, but he had started to associate it with approaching pleasure and so didn’t stop. He began to experimentally raise himself up and push back down, and every time took Seunghyun’s fingers a little deeper. He was feeling very full now, almost as if they were really doing it – but Seunghyun’s cock was even bigger, would challenge him even more. The thought of it brought Jiyong back to full erection; Seunghyun noticed, of course, and proceeded to tease him: gliding his fingertips round the head and smoothing his thumb over the slit. Jiyong set his jaw and started to ride his hand more determinedly.

“You have…no idea…what you look like right now,” Seunghyun whispered. He looked dazzled.

“Like a slut…?” enquired Jiyong, who certainly felt brazen. He wound his fingers in Seunghyun’s hair and dragged his head back to see him better.

“…Like the sweetest thing I ever saw. You idiot.” At that Jiyong grinned with delight and pressed against him, his slight torso sliding along Seunghyun’s as the older boy took a more active part and began to move his fingers again. Seunghyun _worshipped_ his body; Jiyong had never been more sure of that.

“Are you gonna…do that thing?” Jiyong asked, pursing his lips when Seunghyun thrust harder into him. He only remembered the pleasure of it, and he wanted it again. Seunghyun’s eyes gleamed.

“If you like.” He hesitated, and Jiyong stopped what he was doing for a second, because that was an intriguing kind of pause. “Or…” began Seunghyun.

“Or what?” demanded Jiyong breathlessly.

“…Or there’s something else we can try.” Seunghyun looked embarrassed, which immediately got Jiyong’s attention.

“Are you gonna let me blow you finally?”

“No!”

“Didn’t think so.” Jiyong rubbed his palm absently across Seunghyun’s chest. “…Will it hurt?”

“No,” said Seunghyun, as if shocked. “It’s very…erm…intimate, though.”

“All right then,” said Jiyong gamely. There was nothing he wanted more from his brother. Seunghyun took his chin in one hand and gave him a long, gratified kiss. Then he lifted Jiyong easily off his lap.

“Back you go on your knees.”

“Are you gonna spank me again?” asked Jiyong. That was just plain rude. Seunghyun shook his head, all serious and handsome now, so Jiyong obligingly folded himself over the edge of the bath and tried to relax. He felt empty after all that, and very aroused; his erection was throbbing insistently between his legs.

He felt Seunghyun lean over him, his stomach against Jiyong’s back. Then those hands were on his shoulder-blades, massaging them into limpness. Jiyong rested his head on his arms and felt Seunghyun’s lips at the top of his spine. Seunghyun began to kiss him, one vertebra at a time as if he was counting them. His hands preceded his mouth, tracing ticklish patterns over Jiyong’s ribs and hips. Jiyong sighed happily. Seunghyun paused in the small of his back.

“If you don’t like this,” he muttered, “you tell me right away.” Jiyong could feel him speak into his skin. The older boy continued to kiss him, all the way down to his tailbone, and by then his hands were on Jiyong’s ass, slowly squeezing and massaging.

“Mmm…” Jiyong dropped one hand down to touch himself – not enough to get off yet, just to add something extra. He felt Seunghyun’s thumbs spread his cheeks apart, and then the gentle brush of something new, something soft and –

“ _Ohmygod_ ,” gasped Jiyong, as his brother’s tongue touched the delicate skin around his entrance. Jiyong was incredibly sensitive there, and it felt so _different_ from Seunghyun’s fingers, so warm and subtle and… “You _can’t_!” he exclaimed without thinking; it was the most scandalous thing he could imagine.

“You want me to stop?” came Seunghyun’s low voice. He sounded very unsure of himself.

“No!” Jiyong replied immediately. “Just…holy shit, Tabi…” He couldn’t imagine how much the older boy must desire him to want to do this to him. But he was right, thought Jiyong giddily as Seunghyun’s lips started to tease him again, this had to be the most intimate thing possible; maybe even more intimate than fucking. Seunghyun’s moral code was very strange, he decided, and then all thought stopped.

When that articulate, clever tongue entered him Jiyong heaved in a harsh breath and clenched his fist against the tile. He had never felt anything like it.

“…You’re really soft here,” murmured Seunghyun admiringly, pausing for a moment to use his fingers.

“Don’t you dare stop…!” gasped Jiyong, and there it was again, rigid now and exploring deeper. Seunghyun pulled back to catch his breath and the younger boy felt the fingers, all three of them, a completely different sensation. Seunghyun screwed him with them for a while and then swapped back, teasing him unbearably, his tongue wet and hot and delicate. Then the fingers again, and this time Seunghyun hooked them at just the right angle to brush over that magic spot. Jiyong cried out once before his high voice was reduced to a series of whimpers as Seunghyun’s mouth joined his fingers and brought him rapidly towards the edge.

Before he could come Seunghyun stopped abruptly. Jiyong could hear him breathing quick and unsteady behind him. His brother made a desperate sound and flipped him over bodily onto his back, his shoulder-blades against the tile.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jiyong swore, “I was so close…!” Before he could continue complaining Seunghyun knocked his knees apart and pushed himself swiftly between his legs. Jiyong looked up, and to his amazement and some apprehension saw an almost frantic expression on his brother’s face. Seunghyun’s cock was rock-hard and pushing against him, and Jiyong immediately understood. He felt his breathing speed up.

“You’re ready,” said Seunghyun hoarsely, tugging the smaller boy even closer with a tight grip on his thighs. His erection brushed between Jiyong’s buttocks and they both moaned involuntarily. “Do you want to?”

Christ, Jiyong did. His body was ready, he _knew_ it was ready, thanks to Seunghyun’s careful patience and skill, and his brother had held himself back so long. Jiyong had been teasing, and asking, and at last he was going to get what he wanted.

What _he_ wanted… Jiyong exhaled and tried to get enough brain cells in line to process this thought. This whole time it had been him nagging Seunghyun to give in and fuck him already. But it wasn’t what _Seunghyun_ wanted, it had never been. What Seunghyun wanted was to protect him. Jiyong realised that Seunghyun was only willing now because he was so close to the edge from pleasing him that he was almost out of control. Letting him do it like this was not… _ethical_ , Jiyong decided, amazed at himself.

“ _Please_ ,” rasped Seunghyun, pressing even tighter against him, and god, it felt so good, it would be the height of pleasure to have Seunghyun inside him right now. Jiyong took a deep breath.

“…No,” he said shakily. Seunghyun stared at him blankly, chest heaving.

“No?” he echoed, sounding more lost than disbelieving. “…After all these weeks, _no_?” Jiyong raised himself on his elbows with a struggle; Seunghyun’s arms were still pinning his thighs.

“I want you, Tabi,” he said earnestly. Seunghyun’s jaw clenched. “You know I do. But if I let you do this now, you’ll regret it. And then _I’ll_ regret it.” He reached up to touch Seunghyun’s taut forearm. “You don’t want me to regret anything…right?”

“…Jesus Christ,” snarled Seunghyun, and slowly loosened his grip a fraction. That told Jiyong just how close his brother had been to losing it: he never said stuff like that.

“We will,” promised Jiyong in relief. “When we’re both really sure what we’re doing. Right now…anything else. Anything you want to do, I want it too.”

Seunghyun bent to kiss the crook of his knee. It was more a harsh caress than an affectionate one, thought Jiyong, but Seunghyun was still so hungry. As if to prove this the bigger man pulled back from between Jiyong’s legs, closed them tight and then pushed him onto his side. He pressed Jiyong’s thighs down against the tiles with his left hand and worked his right thumb into Jiyong’s ass. The younger boy felt pinned and immobile, his cheek flush with the wet floor.

“Is this okay?” said Seunghyun with an effort, and Jiyong realised how safe he felt now he had been asked.

“Yeah,” urged Jiyong. He gave his brother a tremulous smile. Seunghyun didn’t smile back, but his eyes were huge and adoring as he loomed over him. The older boy didn’t pause for any more talk but pushed his hard cock into the tight space between Jiyong’s thighs and began to fuck him like that. Jiyong could feel Seunghyun’s erection rubbing across his sensitive skin, but it was hard to know whether to concentrate on that or on Seunghyun’s fingers, which had found their way back into him and were thrusting in time with his cock. Jiyong braced himself on one arm and tried to stay put. He could hear his own cries, the change in pitch as he reached for his hard-on with his free hand. He felt very grown-up like this.

“Fuck,” growled Seunghyun above him, leaning forward now to thrust between his legs faster. When Jiyong could summon enough focus to look up he saw Seunghyun’s face was flushed with effort, his perfect mouth open as he struggled for breath. Seunghyun met his eyes and gasped.

“ _Tabi_ ,” groaned Jiyong, almost at the edge for the second time. “Please…!”

“…Love this, I love _you_!” Seunghyun ground out, and as Jiyong tried to take the words in and make sense of them the older boy jammed his fingers against that perfect spot and held them there, hooking upwards mercilessly as he fucked Jiyong’s thighs harder. Jiyong came without fully understanding what had been said, just that it had added something incredible to his orgasm. Seunghyun’s hand tightened on his leg and thirty seconds later he followed, hot against Jiyong’s thighs.

“Tabi…” said Jiyong again. He felt like he would never be able to sit up. Seunghyun was leaning on the edge of the tub, arms braced and trembling either side of him, and Jiyong realised he wasn’t going to get much help there. He lay still for a minute; he felt sore, for the first time, but unbelievably satisfied. That might be partly relief that he had made the right decision and stopped Seunghyun, but nevertheless.

When Seunghyun continued to stare at him blindly Jiyong gave up waiting for assistance and pulled himself to his knees. He got shakily to his feet and went to shower off, then did all the menial cleaning jobs Seunghyun normally did for him. He was quite unused to being the cogent one after getting off, but there was no helping it this time.

Once things were reasonably tidy he took Seunghyun by the hand and heaved him up with difficulty, washed him down briskly and led him out. In the corridor Seunghyun stopped. It was deep night, with just enough ambient light for Jiyong to look up into his brother’s face. Seunghyun looked helpless. Jiyong decided to take him straight to bed and stay with him until morning; but before he could suggest it Seunghyun drew him close and wrapped his arms around him, head on Jiyong’s shoulder and their clean, damp skin pressed together.

“Thanks,” said Seunghyun, quietly but fervently. Jiyong wasn’t sure what he was being thanked for, but he was happy all the same. He was content to stand there in the dark, the embrace almost as intimate as anything Seunghyun had done to him earlier. Seunghyun sighed into his neck.

An unsettling noise clamoured for Jiyong’s attention, but it was some moments before he could parse it and decide what it was: it was a car. And only one person would possibly be driving up to their house in the middle of the night.

“Shit!” he hissed, and pushed himself away from Seunghyun. Or tried to. Seunghyun was so focused on hugging him that he wouldn’t let go. “Tabi!” snapped Jiyong, horrified. “What’re you, deaf?! Dad’s home!! Move your naked ass!”

The engine cut off, and Jiyong managed to pull free. Seunghyun blinked at him.

“Go to your room!” ordered Jiyong, and desperately gave him a push. Far below he heard the door open. Seunghyun’s gaze sharpened, and he sucked in an appalled breath. Jiyong pushed him again, almost up to his bedroom door, then fled in the direction of his own room. As he shut the door silently he heard a tired tread on the stairs. Jiyong leaned back against it – safe – and discovered he was shaking. That was too close. Way, _way_ too close. And yet he wasn’t sorry for any of it.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun, on the other hand, _was_ sorry. Throughout the night he was plagued by faint echoes of the uncontrollable desire – all right, it was lust, he could say it – he had felt for Jiyong at that moment. It was only thanks to the younger boy’s restraint that Seunghyun hadn’t fucked him. After everything he had promised himself about giving Jiyong a normal life! Seunghyun felt sick. He had _wanted_ to do it; he still wanted to so much, and there was no doubt his brother was willing. The thought of being that close to him was giddying. But he had Jiyong’s future to think about. So there it was: the line he wouldn’t cross.

That near miss alone would have been enough to shake some sense into him, and their father coming home early was the catalyst he needed to move on it. Jiyong had been so frightened, and Seunghyun was no use at all. His brother’s horror at the idea of being caught – it showed that Jiyong knew how wrong they were, whatever he said to Seunghyun’s face – was a strong enough message that he had to do _something_.

When he came downstairs their father was vaguely grumpy. Seunghyun thought that this, plus his early return last night, made Jiyong’s diagnosis of a new mistress seem pretty likely. He’d hardly be in such a mood if his conference or golf was cancelled. Well, Seunghyun was in no position to judge. Not right now, anyway. But he had a plan; he knew what he had to do to protect Jiyong’s virtue, such as it was. Having got his father’s permission, Seunghyun went back upstairs to pack.

He had been at work for an hour collecting up his assignments when he sensed someone behind him. He braced himself: this was going to hurt.

“What are you doing?” came Jiyong’s voice from the doorway. Seunghyun looked round.

“Going back to uni. Today.” He resumed his packing, and heard his brother come in.

“But…” Jiyong sat down on Seunghyun’s bed. “I thought your classes didn’t start for two weeks!”

“They don’t,” said Seunghyun flatly. “But I have to go.”

“Why?!” exclaimed Jiyong, surprise raising the pitch of his voice. “Stop doing that, Tabi.” Seunghyun left off searching for his Japanese dictionary and straightened up.

“Because I’ve decided it’s the best thing for both of us. We can’t carry on like this, not after last night. It’s far too dangerous.”

“You can’t decide that for me!” Jiyong said swiftly. His small fists clenched. “And I don’t believe you. Last night…I stopped us! I did what you wanted, I can control myself and you as well. You don’t have to leave.” Seunghyun sighed.

“Sorry. We just…need some space.”

“What’s this really about?” snapped Jiyong, with an echo of his old temper. Seunghyun suspected it was to hide his dismay. He felt awful at the prospect of upsetting his brother: all his recent instincts told him he was being cruel. But it had to be done, for Jiyong’s own good. He had always known that; it had only ever been a question of when. “What’s the _problem_?” Jiyong demanded, when Seunghyun didn’t answer. Seunghyun pursed his lips, but was unable to ignore Jiyong once the kid jumped off the bed and squared up to him. He took a deep breath.

“The problem is you’re my _brother_ and however much I try, I can’t forget it! So we have to stop. Before this gets out of hand.”

“I never forget it,” Jiyong said solemnly, after a minute spent staring at him in appalled silence. “I don’t even try. And I don’t care.” Seunghyun shook his head, sickened. Was this what he had done to the younger boy? Was this what came of not cutting things off right at the start?

“You can’t think like that,” he told Jiyong fervently.

“I love you, Tabi.” Jiyong met his gaze with a stubborn look, though Seunghyun could detect a pleading gleam there too. “As my brother _and_ my lover. I don’t know how to change that.”

“Yes,” said Seunghyun. “That’s why I’m going back to my dorm, and I’m going to stay there. Until we get things in perspective.”

“…You’re afraid of me,” Jiyong said. He sounded incredulous, and Seunghyun could see that he was hurt.

“ _No_.” Seunghyun dragged a hand through his hair, and wondered why he couldn’t explain himself. “I’m afraid of what will happen to you.”

“Same thing.”

“No it isn’t!” Jiyong was scowling at him; plainly he considered this a betrayal. Seunghyun didn’t want to be thought of like that, not after how far they’d come. “I do love you, Jiyong,” he stated earnestly, and heard his brother gasp; so he _hadn’t_ heard it when he’d blurted it out last night. Seunghyun had never meant to tell him. He’d been scared to. But Jiyong needed to know now. “And that means I’m going to look after you.” Jiyong opened his mouth, but Seunghyun cut him off. “Whether you like it or not.”

They stared at each other through a long silence; Jiyong’s small face was working hard, emotions rolling across it as he tried to decide how to react. Seunghyun felt more protective of him now than he could say.

“…When will I see you again?” asked the younger boy at last. Seunghyun sighed with relief.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I’ve been offered internships in the holidays, plus my weekend job when semester starts up. Maybe at Christmas?”

“That’s-” began Jiyong in dismay.

“That’s life.” Seunghyun stepped up, and before his brother could protest he kissed him. Just so he’d remember what it felt like. For a moment Jiyong stood rigid and furious; then he melted against him. Seunghyun cupped his face in both hands. Jiyong’s cheek was wet beneath his fingers.

“Will you still talk to me?” whispered Jiyong, when Seunghyun eventually let him go. “Will you still help me with stuff?”

“Of course,” said Seunghyun quickly. “You’re my brother.”

Jiyong laughed for a second, humourlessly. Then he nodded, fumbled for the door knob and left the room before either of them said something worse.

Seunghyun didn’t see him again for three months.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note to say I'll be on holiday in Tokyo (whee!) for the next 5 days, so I won't have much time to work on editing. I'll try and squeeze in an update mid-week, and then it's back to normal from Friday :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun tries to do the right thing - again. Naturally, this pleases nobody.

Jiyong cried the whole afternoon Seunghyun left, for so long even their father noticed when he got home from driving the older boy to his dorm.

“What is it?” asked their father apprehensively, when he came back to find his younger son red-eyed and staring blindly at the TV. “Did you two start fighting again?” Jiyong shook his head silently; he wasn’t usually much of a cry-baby, and it had drained his energy. “I wondered why he was going back,” said the older man. “He was being very odd. And you know nothing about it?”

“No,” replied Jiyong, sniffing. Their father sat down beside him and patted him briskly on the shoulder.

“Ah, well. Looks like it’s just you and me ‘til the holidays!” Jiyong nodded. He knew that was meant to make him feel better, and before this summer it would have done so; he’d have been delighted to get rid of Seunghyun and claim his dad’s attention. But now it just made him want to cry again.

 

It wasn’t until a good week later that Jiyong saw how teenage he was being, with his sulking and his resentment of his brother. With a shock it struck him that maybe _this_ was what Seunghyun disliked, that this was the real reason he had left. Jiyong was acting like a child, or at best a spoiled adolescent. No wonder Seunghyun was always saying he was too young! This wasn’t just about whether or not they could go all the way; Seunghyun thought Jiyong was too immature to even know what he wanted. Well, he was wrong – Jiyong knew that in his heart – but was it any wonder he thought it? Jiyong had been acting like a brat. All right; so enough of that. He was going to take responsibility.

“I’m good,” he told Seunghyun casually a few nights after. It was the first time Seunghyun had suggested that they Skype; maybe he judged that Jiyong would be safely over his tantrum by now. And Jiyong, acting for all he was worth, aimed to show him he was.

“How’s school?”

“Okay,” said Jiyong. He was actually making an effort – sort of – and maybe it was paying off. He had got a B on one test this week. “I could use your help with some stuff, though.”

“Sure,” replied Seunghyun, sounding relieved that his little brother was being so normal. Did Seunghyun feel normal? wondered Jiyong. He studied the screen carefully, trying to find any sign in the older boy’s perfect face that he was regretting going back; that he was missing Jiyong. Either it was too hard to tell on video or Seunghyun was too good an actor. Jiyong was sure that he himself had broken out in blushes when he had first heard his brother’s voice.

He wanted to ask it: _Do you miss me?_ But he didn’t dare. He was too afraid of what the answer would be. He didn’t understand Seunghyun anymore, and was starting to doubt if he ever had; maybe he _was_ too young, or maybe Seunghyun just hadn’t felt that much to begin with. But Jiyong refused to entertain that idea. Seunghyun had said he loved him. He didn’t have to; he had _chosen_ to, to give Jiyong something to cling to while they were apart.

“…I love you, Tabi,” he said, unable to stop himself, when Seunghyun was done helping him with his homework and they were about to sign off. For a moment he thought Seunghyun looked distraught. Then the older boy smiled and wished him goodnight.

Jiyong closed the app, flopped onto his back, and gave himself over to teenage angst. Just until tomorrow. Tomorrow he would be a grownup again.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun got back to his dorm one chilly lunchtime just before midterms. He’d planned to quickly dump one set of books and pick up another for his afternoon classes, but on the way home the heavens had opened and given him a thorough soaking. He let himself into the building and squelched his way up the stairs. As he pushed open the door to his floor he saw a figure sitting outside his room. Seunghyun went hot and cold and felt himself blush all in the space of a second. It was Jiyong.

“Tabi!” exclaimed Jiyong, lifting his head from his knees. He was also dripping wet, Seunghyun saw. The sight of his face sent a pleasurable shiver through the older boy, followed by a deep sense of both worry and wellbeing. God, he had missed him; it hadn’t hit him until now just how much.

“How did you get in here?!” snapped Seunghyun, before relenting and asking, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jiyong held out a hand and Seunghyun helped him to his feet; his brother’s skin felt cold. Seunghyun immediately turned solicitous.

“You’re gonna catch a chill,” he said severely. “You can wait here and get dry ‘til the rain stops, and then you’re going right back to school!”

“That’s the thing,” explained Jiyong, following him eagerly into the room. “We got sent home; water pipe burst, it flooded the Science building.”

“So you came all the way out here.” Seunghyun rummaged in the cupboard and found two towels, throwing one at his brother. He shouldn’t be surprised, he supposed; God knew he’d tried his best to avoid being around Jiyong these last few months. It was almost inevitable that the boy would take the initiative one day.

“Yeah,” said Jiyong. “It’s been so long, and Skype’s not the same. I tried to stay away. But I miss you.” This was getting into dangerous territory, thought Seunghyun.

“How did you get into my dorm?” he repeated. Jiyong shrugged, towelling off his hair vigorously. His school shirt was so wet it was almost see-through.

“I asked someone and they let me in; it was raining so hard. _Most_ people find me pretty charming, you know!”

“That’s against the rules.”

“Rules,” said Jiyong dismissively. “I’m soaking, Tabi. Can I borrow some clothes?”

“They’ll be too big,” warned Seunghyun.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just for now.”

Seunghyun turned to find some for him; the sooner Jiyong was out of here and on his way home, the better. It was far too good to see him.

“I have class in an hour,” he said, head in the cupboard. “I’ll have to kick you out by then.”

“Whatever.” Seunghyun wondered why Jiyong didn’t sound more bothered. He finally found some jeans and a sweater that were on the snug side and haphazardly tugged them out. When he turned round Jiyong was naked.

Seunghyun stood there, dry clothes in his hands, and stared. Jiyong looked back at him, a little smile curling his lips. Seunghyun swallowed heavily, unable to stop his eyes from taking Jiyong in from head to toe. Stupidly he held out the jeans and sweater, and as he finally moved Jiyong did too. The younger boy ignored the proffered clothes and stepped right between Seunghyun’s outstretched arms, invading his space. Seunghyun tried to move out of the way and found he couldn’t; he felt his pulse accelerate even further.

“Tabi,” said Jiyong softly, sliding his fingers up his brother’s wet shirt. “I came here to see you. Aren’t you happy? Don’t you miss me?”

“…Yes,” Seunghyun answered thickly. He could avoid Jiyong, but he couldn’t lie to him. Jiyong’s naked body brushed against him, and that was all it took. Abandoning months of good sense he dropped the clothes, grabbed Jiyong by the back of the neck and pulled him up on his toes to kiss him. The moment their lips met Seunghyun was hit by the full sense memory of how good they had been together, how ecstatic this boy made him.

“ _Mmm_ …” Jiyong moaned happily into his mouth, pressing tighter against him, and Seunghyun was hard already. He ran his hands down Jiyong’s smooth, damp spine to grasp his beautiful backside and grind against him. Jiyong made a louder noise.

“You gotta keep it down,” whispered Seunghyun feverishly, as his brother tugged open his shirt and went for his fly. “These walls are paper-thin!” Jiyong’s skin was hot now beneath his fingers. Seunghyun crushed his mouth against the other boy’s to stifle his own groan when Jiyong finally freed his cock from his pants. Jiyong kissed him back hungrily, then broke away to press his lips to Seunghyun’s throat, his sternum. Seunghyun looked down at the top of his head and wondered how he could have spent the last twelve weeks without this. Then Jiyong took him by the belt-loops and shoved him up against the wall.

“What did I just say?” Seunghyun hissed as his back connected with a thud, but Jiyong’s hand was on his erection and the complaint died on his lips. Jiyong gave a soft, excited laugh. “Fuck,” muttered Seunghyun, “you feel _so good_!”

“Ahh,” said Jiyong with delight. “And I’ll make you feel even better…” And with that he sank to his knees. Seunghyun stared down at him, aghast. Jiyong gave him the most electrifying smile, then leaned forward and kissed his stomach.

“ _No_ ,” stated Seunghyun desperately. “You know you can’t. You know what we agreed!” He reached down to grab Jiyong’s hair and stop him, but somehow ended up running his fingers through it instead.

“Don’t you want me to?” asked Jiyong, sounding perfectly earnest. He looked up at his brother. “We’ve been so close, Tabi, much closer than this. We almost…”

“I know!” interrupted Seunghyun, who hated thinking about how near he had come to losing control. “That’s why this is too dangerous for you!”

“But I’m older now.” Jiyong kissed his stomach again, a little lower. “And I came all this way.”

“Three months is not older!”

“It seemed like so long, though,” murmured Jiyong, and Seunghyun couldn’t argue with him there. “And I’ve been imagining doing this for you every day.” Seunghyun twitched, and Jiyong took a quick, pleased breath. “Whenever I touch myself,” he continued softly, “I think of having you in my mouth.” Seunghyun felt almost delirious at that; he had forgotten how good Jiyong was at talking dirty. The smaller boy kissed him again, low enough now that he could rub his cheek against Seunghyun’s erection. Fuck, it felt amazing, and it _looked_ amazing, too.

“You can’t…” Seunghyun tried again, taking Jiyong’s face in both hands. Never in his life had he felt more useless.

“Watch me.” And Jiyong lowered his head and kissed the tip of Seunghyun’s cock. Seunghyun tried his best, really he did; but his dick thought it knew better, just like the last time, only this time Jiyong wasn’t about to save him from himself. And it was very, very eager to feel more.

Jiyong made a triumphant little sound when he realised he was finally going to get his own way, and that in itself was arousing enough to make Seunghyun’s hard-on perk up even more. Jiyong kissed him again, then before Seunghyun could react licked a hot stripe up the length of his cock from the base to the tip, his pink tongue swirling around the head.

“Does it feel okay?” he asked curiously, and evidently took his brother’s dumb silence as an affirmative. Seunghyun leaned back against the wall and bit his tongue as Jiyong began to explore, tasting him, testing the textures with his lips and tongue. His slim fingers cupped Seunghyun’s balls, then his mouth was there too, experimenting.

“Jiyong!” Seunghyun burst out, after what felt like an eternity of deliberate, delicious torture.

“Hmm?” Jiyong took his erection in one hand and caressed it absently. “What is it?”

“…You’re being a tease,” Seunghyun told him hoarsely.

“Oh!” Jiyong looked up at him. “Don’t you like it?” Seunghyun wanted to laugh at that, but couldn’t.

“Too much.”

“All right,” said Jiyong. His cherubic lips curled in another smile. Then they parted, and closed themselves over the head of Seunghyun’s cock. Jiyong made a small sound, a hungry, gratified sound, his wet mouth an airless vacuum of pleasure. Seunghyun did grab his hair this time as the younger boy began to suck, one hand tight on the shaft while his sweet lips slid up and down, trying to swallow more. All of a sudden it was gone as Jiyong stopped to breathe.

“Use your tongue, too,” instructed Seunghyun in a choked voice. Jiyong was teasing him again, getting his breath back. Then he bent his head and Seunghyun was engulfed in that wonderful heat once more; he felt Jiyong’s tongue briefly on the underside of his shaft, and his cock slipped deeper. The next second Jiyong was coughing. Seunghyun cradled the boy’s head and let him breathe.

“This is…very difficult,” observed Jiyong, his narrow chest heaving. “How come you’re so good at it?”

“Practice,” said Seunghyun shortly. Jiyong huffed.

“Then it’s your fault…I’m rubbish.”

“You’re not _rubbish_ ,” Seunghyun assured him. God, he wanted back into that heat. “Just…use everything. Your hands, too. Breathe through your nose. You’re incredible,” he added in a groan, as Jiyong began to blow him again, sealing his hand around the base of Seunghyun’s cock and his lovely mouth over the head. With every stroke he took his brother a little deeper, until his lips were touching his fingers. Seunghyun started to catch soft moans of effort as Jiyong put his tongue to use, slowing the movement of his head to trace patterns up the shaft and press against his glans. Jiyong’s free hand was gripping his hip for balance.

“…That’s so good, baby,” Seunghyun managed encouragingly. “Fuck, your _tongue_ …!” It was all he could do to keep himself still, stop himself from pushing into the smaller boy’s throat; that would be an awful thing to do to Jiyong, who was too young for this anyway, and Seunghyun ought to be guilty but right now all he could feel was adoration. Jiyong’s free hand glided over his ass and down to squeeze his balls gently, and Seunghyun let out a sound of helpless approbation. He slapped his palm over his mouth to keep himself quiet, then felt Jiyong laugh around his erection.

Seunghyun looked down to see his brother gazing up at him, his black eyes even darker than usual and an intense flush on his golden face. Jiyong continued to make eye contact, his lips wrapped tight around Seunghyun’s cock and his moans vibrating in the back of his throat. Seunghyun hoped he wasn’t in pain, that this wouldn’t put him off for life. The older boy had never seen anything so amazing as Jiyong kneeling before him, his slim legs spread for balance and his lovely head cupped in Seunghyun’s hand. Jiyong looked at his brother’s glazed eyes and sped up.

“I’m gonna…!” warned Seunghyun after another minute of this, trying to pull back. But he was up against a wall and there was nowhere he could go, and Jiyong just kept moving, frowning with concentration as he worked to make the bigger man come. At last Seunghyun couldn’t hold on; it had been too long, too many weeks of only his hand to satisfy him. He twisted his fingers involuntarily in Jiyong’s hair, making the boy whimper, and then his orgasm hit him – Seunghyun bit down in the meat of his hand to keep himself quiet. Jiyong made one surprised sound, then drew back just enough to let Seunghyun come in his mouth, keeping his tongue in motion until the older boy felt completely drained.

“Shit…” Seunghyun was panting heavily, his hand still in Jiyong’s hair. He pulled his brother’s head back gently; Jiyong looked breathless himself, fingers now over his mouth and his eyes very wide. “You can spit it out,” said Seunghyun unromantically, not wanting to put him off any more than coming inside him already had. Jiyong narrowed his eyes at him. Then Seunghyun saw him swallow.

“If you can do it, so can I,” Jiyong told him, at his astounded silence. “Anyway, I wanted to see…what you taste like.” He licked his lips; they looked tender, turned a deep pink from friction. His high, sweet voice sounded faint and husky, and if Seunghyun hadn’t just climaxed he thought he’d be hard again just from how sexy that was.

“…I can’t believe I let you do that,” he said, appalled at the both of them. Jiyong snorted.

“You didn’t ‘let’ me do anything, Tabi.” He shrugged his narrow shoulders. “We both do what we want. And you wanted it!”

“Yeah,” replied Seunghyun. “But I shouldn’t.”

Jiyong slowly got to his feet and took his brother by the hand, leading him over to the small dorm room bed. He pushed the shirt off Seunghyun’s shoulders, briefly wrapping his arms around him. Seunghyun caught him before he could pull away and held on tight; he had missed this, too.

“You’re the one who’s gonna catch cold,” Jiyong told him, though his skin was trembling beneath Seunghyun’s fingers. “Get undressed!” He stepped back, and Seunghyun soon discovered the source of the younger boy’s discomfort: he was painfully hard, and Seunghyun had been holding him close without paying any attention to him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, quickly stripping off the rest of his wet clothes. Jiyong obeyed with alacrity, and Seunghyun soon joined him. The single bed was so small they had to press together tight to prevent themselves falling off. Not that that was a problem. “How do you want me to do it?” Seunghyun asked Jiyong, brushing his thumb over one small, hard nipple and then leaning down to kiss him.

“…Your fingers,” murmured Jiyong. “That thing you do…I’ve been dreaming of that, too.”

“Oh,” said Seunghyun recklessly, “me too.” He glanced around the room. “But we’ll have to make do with what we can find. And you have to be quiet!” Jiyong nodded, and pulled Seunghyun down onto him.

Seunghyun spent the next hour making up for three months of celibacy, his hands and lips and tongue on Jiyong’s body, recalling it, mapping it again for himself. When he pushed a finger inside, his brother gasped; he was tight as the first time. Seunghyun worked him open – they had never done this in a bed, without the aid of the big bathroom and its products – while Jiyong clung to him, muffling his cries in the back of his hand. This became insufficient once Seunghyun hit that spot his brother loved, so Jiyong took the pillowcase in his white teeth and bit down until he came.

Seunghyun didn’t want it to end, so he kept Jiyong on the edge as long as he could; he had never imagined something as risky as this: Jiyong in his college dorm, in this poky room next to a bunch of other students. Jiyong in his bed, flushed and ecstatic and holding on for dear life as Seunghyun finally drew his orgasm out. Seunghyun didn’t want it to end because he knew how stupid they were being; and because he knew this was the last time.

They lay there afterwards, Jiyong in his arms, his head on Seunghyun’s chest as if it was the natural place for him to be. Seunghyun had certainly missed his afternoon class; it seemed that his brother was a bad influence on everyone around him. Eventually Seunghyun made them get up and nagged Jiyong until he got dressed in the dry clothes. The jeans and the sweater sleeves were too long for him, but as usual the kid seemed a pro at making ridiculous clothes look good. Then Seunghyun began his lecture.

“You’re not to do this again,” he said severely. “Not because I don’t care about you; you’re my brother, we’ve already established that I do.” Jiyong sat in his desk chair, smirking at him intimately. “You have to focus on school,” Seunghyun told him; how was he supposed to hammer this point home? “Even if you want to do music, you have to graduate. For Dad, at least.”

Jiyong’s face fell at that. Ah. Seunghyun thought he had found his leverage; of course Jiyong still craved their father’s approval. Seunghyun knew it because he was no different.

“…I’m gonna fail school at this rate,” said Jiyong glumly. “I can’t focus. I can’t think about anything but you.”

“You know we can’t carry on like that!” Seunghyun exclaimed, a sense of horrified responsibility looming over him. “That’s why I came back here early!”

“It’s worse.” Jiyong sighed. “I tried, I really did try, for like a whole month. But how am I supposed to concentrate on Physics when I know you’re less than an hour and a half away?” Seunghyun frowned sharply, a sudden suspicion hitting him.

“…Your school isn’t closed today at all, is it?” he demanded. “You ditched it to come here.”

“Yes,” said Jiyong. “It doesn’t make me happy. You do.”

Seunghyun sat frozen on the bed, staring at his stupid little brother. He felt a sinking sensation in his ribcage as he realised he hadn’t made things clear enough to Jiyong. He’d been too afraid to hurt him and too reluctant to leave, and so he hadn’t run far enough. And look at what had happened today! If Jiyong failed school now it would be Seunghyun’s fault, and some future the boy would have then!

“It’s not only you, Tabi,” continued Jiyong, evidently reading the appalled look on his face. “I’m just not good at school. I’m good at other stuff, so I’m working on that. You don’t have to worry about me,” he said, smiling. “I miss you, that’s all.”

“I know.” Seunghyun swallowed and held out his hand, and Jiyong came eagerly back into his arms. “And I’m gonna make it so you’re not torn like this anymore.” He sank his face into Jiyong’s hair. “I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

The week after acing his midterms Seunghyun went to see his homeroom professor, the Careers centre, and his faculty Dean. They were all surprised at what he wanted to do, and questioned him closely about why he suddenly had to do it _now_ ; but in the end they saw no particular reason why he shouldn’t. His homeroom professor advised him to wait until the end of the semester so he wouldn’t have to repeat, but Seunghyun was adamant: it had to be now. As soon as it was bureaucratically possible.

The final thing to do was tell his father, and that would be almost the trickiest part. Seunghyun arranged to meet him in the city, at his father’s favourite café near the courts.

“It’s nice to see you once in a blue moon!” his father said, bustling in with his briefcase and ordering coffee. “Seeing as you seem to be having too much fun to come home.” A waitress brought their drinks, almost spilling one cup as the older man smiled at her.

“I think she likes you,” said Seunghyun neutrally. His father grinned; how was it possible, Seunghyun thought, that he had never seen how much of a ladies’ man he was?

“You want to hear about my case?” Seunghyun’s father asked, looking enthusiastic. “It has some pretty curious wrinkles.”

“I’d love to,” replied Seunghyun, telling himself not to get distracted. “Later. Dad, I asked to meet up because…well, I’ve decided something, and I need your advice.”

“Uh-oh,” said his father. “You want my advice only _after_ you made up your mind? You’ve got it backwards, son. So. Is this about a girl, hmm? Have you told your mother?”

“It’s not about a girl.” Seunghyun frowned: his father did have a point, because in fact he _hadn’t_ told his mother. He’d have to brace himself for hysterics. “You know my studies are progressing pretty well, right?”

“Certainly. Top grades, wiping the floor with everyone!” Seunghyun felt the warm glow of praise that made him want to wiggle like a puppy, but he forced himself back on track.

“Well, I’ve discussed this with my professors and the head of my school, and they said yes: I want to do my military service now. I don’t want to wait.”

Seunghyun’s father sat and stared at him for a good minute. Seunghyun looked back at him politely, feeling quite resolute. It was the only way to keep himself and Jiyong apart, the only way that the younger boy would move on with his life: Seunghyun would literally have to put an army between them.

“…Are you serious?” said his father at last, still studying his face. “Yes, I can see that you are. But _why_? You’re barely an adult, and you’re not even halfway through your undergrad. So, what can I conclude? That you’re running from something.”

“That’s not it at all,” lied Seunghyun calmly.

“It _is_ a girl, isn’t it?” his father pressed. “Did you get her in trouble?” He sighed. “You’re such a handsome kid; I should have warned you better about what that can do.”

“It’s not a girl.” Seunghyun could at least say that with complete truth. “Honestly.” His father watched him closely for a long moment, then sat back. “The thing is,” said Seunghyun, embarking on his big justification for this crazy step, “I _love_ my course. I love the law, and I know when I start doing postgrad for the J.D. and then go to work I’m going to love that too.”

“Good,” said his father, a hint of pleasure visible beneath his concern.

“So I talked to my teachers and Careers, and they said that maybe it’s best I get my service out of the way while the schoolwork is still easy for me; that way I can keep studying on my own and pick right back up when I come out. Once I finish, it’ll be a straight stretch to the top.” Seunghyun’s father liked his ambitious side, so Seunghyun had decided to play it for all he was worth.

“…And Dr. Cheong agrees with this?” It was both a blessing and a curse, thought Seunghyun, when your dad was friends with the Dean.

“Yes,” he replied. “He said it won’t be a problem if I leave now.”

“ _Now_?” said his father in surprise. “Not even waiting for the end of semester?”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun pressed on. “They said there might be an opening for me to join next month. But Dad, I want your help.”

“With what? It seems you’ve set your own course.” Seunghyun could hear the subtle dig in that sentence, and winced inwardly. But he couldn’t follow his father his _whole_ life.

“I want to join your old unit after Basic.” The older man looked surprised again, but this time he didn’t seem displeased.

“In the regulars? Out in the mountains?”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun nodded. “If I’m going to do this, I want to do it properly.” His father did smile then, as Seunghyun had hoped. He knew the man had found so much satisfaction in his military service that he’d stayed on two extra years and had almost gone career. Only family demands – Seunghyun’s dead grandparents – had brought him back.

“It’s tough,” his father warned. “You’ve heard all my stories – multiple times, I bet.” He laughed at himself. “It’s cold and isolated and the career guys will kick the heck out of you if they think you’re slacking. There’s not a lot of glory in it, not like joining the Marines. You’ll find it tricky to make it home for visits. Depending on where they put you, you could spend two years staring at the Armistice Line. Oh, and if your troop is any good you’ll end up helping with crazy training missions for Special Forces.”

“Fine,” said Seunghyun. Frankly, the remoteness and harshness of it sounded pretty appealing right now. If there was anything that could put Jiyong out of his head, it was surely two years as a mountain hermit. “You still have friends serving there, right? They must be pretty high up now. Could you put in a word?”

“If this is what you really want,” said Seunghyun’s father, patting his hand. “I’m proud of you, son. With your English you could have easily got a cushy post with KATSUA.”

“I _want_ to make you proud,” said Seunghyun, fiercely. Oh, that wasn’t why he was doing it – it was _all_ about his brother – but he couldn’t deny that this was an unexpected and thrilling bonus.

“All right.” His father downed his coffee. They got to their feet, and to his surprise Seunghyun was given a firm hug. “You get the applications started. I’ll make some calls.”

 

* * *

 

 

Four weeks later Seunghyun sent the last of his boxes back home, packed his bag, and said goodbye to his classmates for the foreseeable future. When he got out of the Army they would all be his seniors. He ran through his final checklist: he had told his mother, who to put it mildly had not been pleased that he wouldn’t be stationed in a comfy supplies office in Seoul, and was sure he would break his neck falling off a mountain or be murdered by North Koreans and/or Americans. He had undergone the enlistment medical and was pronounced eligible for active service. He had got his hair shaved short, saving one lock for his mother and another which he tucked into his wallet. And now it was time to head off for Basic Training.

Seunghyun didn’t plan to see his home again for two years.

As the car pulled up at the boot camp bus pickup Seunghyun saw a bunch of other young men like himself, their ears pink with cold. Like him, many had their parents accompanying them. It seemed the occasion was momentous enough for his mother and father to shelve their mutual frostiness and drive him this far together. His father was in a good mood, while his mother had cried once already. Seunghyun wished they’d have let him take a taxi and said a restrained goodbye back at his dorm, but no such luck.

They all got out and stretched. Seunghyun’s mother threw her arms around him and he held her tight back; when all was said and done, he loved her dearly. Seunghyun disentangled himself when she started listing things he absolutely must not do, up to and including swimming after breakfast.

“Dad,” he said, pulling an envelope from his pocket. “Will you give this to Jiyong?” His mother looked away, her lips thinning; since that day in her apartment months ago she had never mentioned Seunghyun’s brother, but her opinion was plain to see.

“Of course. He’s going to miss you, you know,” said his father. “When I told him I was driving you up here he just stared at me, then went and shut himself in his room.” The older man sighed. “Teenagers. I suppose you told him not to come?”

“He’d only be upset,” said Seunghyun quietly. “And it sucks enough saying goodbye.”

He’d known this would happen; but he felt hideous all the same. He had asked his father not to mention his plan to start his military service early. Seunghyun had promised he would tell his brother in his own way, and obviously his father had deferred to his wishes until this morning. But Seunghyun had _not_ told Jiyong. He’d been too scared he would persuade him out of it.

In the envelope was a note that simply read: _I’m joining the Army; you don’t have to ask why. I’ll see you when you’re eighteen. Be good and be happy_. Enclosed with it was the other lock of Seunghyun’s cut hair. If, God forbid, some weird training accident should happen to him, Seunghyun wanted his brother to have something.

That was all. Seunghyun felt it was the lowest thing he had ever done, and for the noblest cause. He already knew it would break Jiyong’s heart; but it was the only thing he could think of to do.

In another five minutes the military buses turned up, and a couple of uniformed men jumped out. Seunghyun felt a flutter of anxiety in his stomach. He hoped that, after all his bluster, he would be able to see this through: that he would make his father proud and save his brother’s soul at the same time.

Seunghyun gave his parents another hug, promised to call as soon as he was allowed, then broke off and went to join the other new recruits. They all looked as nervous as he felt. But there was no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More updates to come after Friday. Hopefully the whole of Book 1 will be up by the end of the weekend, and then we can move on to, erm...complications, deep angst, and fewer sex scenes. Hurrah! (?)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun tries to move on, only to find Jiyong is way ahead of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was almost going to be the final chapter of Book 1, but it got ridiculously long so I've had to split it in two. 
> 
> NOTE: Obviously this is fiction, and thus the boys' military service here does not match Seunghyun and Jiyong's real circumstances and experiences. (This is just as well, as you'll find out in later chapters...) Just FYI.

As it transpired, military service looked like it would suit Seunghyun pretty well. The five-week training camp was rather like prep school with deadly weapons: drilling, marching, cleaning, doing gruelling Phys Ed, and exams. Seunghyun naturally aced his on all fronts, and was given several specialisms to choose from. He picked one that would put him at the infantry base in the mountains where his father had served: remote, but not so high up that he’d freeze his ass off just going outside for a piss. He was so exhausted most of the time that he didn’t have the energy to miss Jiyong.

Once he got to the base and joined his troop Seunghyun found that his new life was tough and basic but not at all unbearable. Granted, the days were hard, mostly brainless work: exercise on the freezing slopes, cleaning the barracks, weapons training, or doing utterly ridiculous and involved menial tasks for the officers. More exciting was patrolling in the mountain ranges; their base was uncomfortably close to the border, and one of their duties was to keep an eye on the Armistice Line with the occasional KATSUA or U.S. troop. But as a new recruit he hadn’t got to do much of that yet. Nor had he seen so much as one Special Ops soldier.

If the days were monotonous, they were at least relatively short. Frequently they were off duty by five or six p.m., and then everyone was free to mooch around the barracks doing whatever they liked unless they had guard duty. With the winter coming in they were pretty much confined indoors, which led to several fights; but Seunghyun had been assured that the soccer season would be great once it started up, and in the meantime there was a TV – the channel dictated by the troop Red Cap – or playing games and chatting and doing hobbywork. They didn’t get a lot of visitors, not out here in the sticks, which was pretty much what Seunghyun had counted on. He studied instead, when he wasn’t hanging out with the other guys.

There were two types of man in their troop. The career soldiers, even the Privates, considered themselves a class apart from the national service boys. One or two of them were really willing to help the new recruits learn – like the Master Sergeant, Kim, who Seunghyun looked up to – and a group of the lower-ranked soldiers hung out with them, because with everyone sharing a barracks it was hard not to. There was Ji Minjun, a professed gambling addict who was really pretty funny, Park Hyeonwoo, a straight-edge guy who wore glasses and was always reading what looked like pornography but turned out to be wrestling fan magazines, and Lee Sejun, whose father owned an Italian restaurant and who somehow always smelled of spaghetti. They seemed to tolerate Seunghyun, and he found he could get along with them, even though their banter could be a bit rough for his taste.

It was easier to make friends with the new guys. Like him they were still adjusting to military life and sometimes found the rules bizarre and illogical, and the physical training a challenge. And like him they were lonely.

Seunghyun was serious about making a clean break from Jiyong; two years ought to do the trick. Jiyong would have moved on with his life by then. So he had cut off his brother’s access by the simple expedient of blocking his cell number and messenger IDs. Jiyong could text him all he wanted, but Seunghyun would never know it. And if he called on one of the public phones Seunghyun could always refuse to take it. Jiyong would soon get the hint, he thought miserably. But instead Seunghyun found that the kid had ventured into pre-Internet territory and written to him. The Army wouldn’t hold back letters unless there was something fishy about them, and when mail call came you had to take them. So there it was one day, a month after he arrived on base: his name written in Jiyong’s rounded hangul. And then Seunghyun couldn’t help himself.

> _I was hurt_ , wrote Jiyong obliquely, diving straight in without pleasantries, _when you did what you did._ _Then I was so pissed at you; I told myself I wasn’t going to contact you if you were too much of a coward to tell me in person. But I’m not a kid, so I’m letting it go because I miss you. I mean, I really miss you, I still can’t believe y--… Anyway. Enough about that. I have stuff to tell you! Tabi, I joined an agency. A big one. Someone saw me dancing at one of the contests and recommended me! I didn’t buy it at first, but I got a call to audition for them, and it really was the YG building I ended up in. I was scared shitless, you know? This bunch of suits made me dance and sing and rap, and I showed them my writing; and then the boss said he’d take me, if I work crazy hard. I have to finish school though, they say, while I’m training. Bet you get a laugh out of that! Me, a good student. So. Guess I have a shot at being an idol. Not exactly Eminem, is it? But if I can make it…who knows?_
> 
> _Please write back to me, Tabi. Or call, or anything. But I’ll write to you again before that._
> 
> _Love J._
> 
> _P.S. Dad says he’s sending you some textbooks. Lucky you!_

When Seunghyun was done reading he had a lump in his throat. He knew that saying Jiyong had been ‘pissed’ was probably the understatement of the year; and still the kid could write him a letter as sweet as this. He supposed he should be delighted that Jiyong, against the odds, had been picked out of all the cute boys in Seoul to be given a shot at his dream. But in truth the letter had caused such a swell of yearning for his brother that Seunghyun couldn’t feel anything else. He brought it to his face and inhaled; it smelled of Jiyong, who was always using some trendy hair or skin product. Smell was such an evocative sense! Seunghyun understood that physically now, for the first time ever.

He knew he should throw the letter away, not stash it in his locker to look at and pine over again and again. But that was exactly what he did. The one consolation – and cruelty – was that he managed to refrain from writing back.

 

* * *

 

 

When their father had given him Seunghyun’s letter all Jiyong had been able to feel was terrible, prostrating rage. He had spent the whole day leading up to it in his room, quite stunned by his brother’s betrayal: Seunghyun had left him; he had run as far as humanly possible to get away from him, and he hadn’t even told him in person. Their father had let it slip that morning, unaware of his older son’s awful duplicity. Jiyong was so hurt he couldn’t even shed a tear.

Then that letter, which was barely even a letter! A couple of lines, not even a kiss goodbye at the end. Jiyong had read it, then ripped it up in a fury. He’d immediately picked up the pieces and hidden them in his sock drawer, ashamed of himself and even angrier at Seunghyun that he couldn’t throw them away.

And then in the envelope he had found Seunghyun’s hair. Jiyong would know it anywhere, the bastard. He squeezed it tight in his palm. That was when he started crying.

 

It had taken weeks for his anger to begin subsiding. It didn’t help that Seunghyun wasn’t replying to his texts, and had obviously blocked his number. Jiyong even found out the name of Seunghyun’s base from his father, and went so far as to call it; but when he did he was told his brother was busy. Jiyong looked the location up on the map; it was smack in the mountains, near the border with North Korea. Was that how badly Seunghyun had wanted to get away from him? That he’d rather get shot at by a dictator than deal with the undeniable fact of Jiyong’s love?

Yes, Jiyong still loved him. For a while he wasn’t sure; his rage and his fear for Seunghyun were blocking almost every other emotion. He only rediscovered it when the talent agent picked him, _him_ , and gave him his chance to become everything he had ever wanted. Jiyong was so amazed, so flabbergasted, that he had _had_ to write to Seunghyun; he couldn’t help himself. And in the process of writing it the letter had become affectionate. Jiyong sent it anyway. He was determined now to work hard, to graduate from school so he could become a star. This was mostly because it was his dream; but also, just a little, it was to show his brother what he was missing.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong wrote to him every week, regular. At first he would finish each letter by asking Seunghyun to write back; but later he seemed to accept that his brother was the world’s biggest jerk, and stopped asking. Seunghyun wondered if Jiyong knew whether his letters were even being read. In the end he just had to assume that the act of writing had some cathartic function for the younger boy, and that the letters were probably as much for himself as they were for Seunghyun.

Still, Seunghyun grew to live for them. Against his better judgement he kept them all; there was nothing incriminating in them, nothing that wouldn’t be natural for an affectionate younger brother to write. And so it couldn’t hurt to save them. Just because he wouldn’t reply didn’t mean Jiyong’s life wasn’t the most important and interesting thing to Seunghyun, especially now he was stuck up here.

Jiyong’s letters grew longer and longer, full of small incidents at school and his new agency. His handwriting got messy, though not as bad as Seunghyun’s, and the older boy supposed he was so busy he had to squeeze in the writing between class and homework and his idol training. Seunghyun was sympathetic to his brother’s insane schedule and his complaints of fatigue, and proud of how he was maintaining his grades and impressing the boss of the agency with his writing and dancing. He was becoming YG’s little protégé, wrote Jiyong gleefully, and in the same sentence went on to gripe about how hungry he was _all the time_.

Seunghyun would not write back. But he talked to their father often, and never failed to ask about Jiyong.

“He can tell you himself, can’t he?” came their father’s voice down the phone. He sounded mystified. “I never know what that boy’s doing these days.”

“I know,” said Seunghyun, pretending that he was on speaking terms with Jiyong, who had clearly not told their father about Seunghyun’s cruelty. “But he’s so busy I almost never get to talk to him.”

“Well, he made his own bed with that.” Their father sounded confused, but also faintly proud. Seunghyun wondered what that announcement had been like; Jiyong hadn’t mentioned it. Had the two of them had a fight over Jiyong’s future? If so, they seemed to have gotten over it. “Did he tell you he’s moved into one of the agency residences?”

“That’s the way it works for all the trainees, I hear,” said Seunghyun. “The training is pretty tough; probably not that different to Basic, actually!”

“Hmph. I suppose it might do him some good,” conceded their father. “And he does dance well, if you like that sort of thing. But it’s an empty old house with both of you gone.” Seunghyun felt momentarily guilty, then consoled himself with the fact that his father would be able to have all the affairs he wanted at home without worrying about his teenage sons being scandalised.

“He’ll be back all the time to scrounge food,” Seunghyun said consolingly. So, Jiyong was really serious about this; serious enough to leave his pampered existence and join a building full of other squawking teenagers. Seunghyun found himself looking forward to those letters.

 

* * *

 

 

“Who’s that from?” asked Lee as he passed behind Seunghyun, who was sitting on his pallet after breakfast one Saturday opening his post. “Your girlfriend?”

“…My brother,” said Seunghyun, who never knew when the older man was going to tease him, or quite what he meant when he did. Lee inhaled deeply.

“Smells like Myeongdong. You’re lucky; _my_ brother smells like ass.” Seunghyun wisely refrained from commenting that _some people_ constantly smelled of meatballs – Lee was considerably bigger than him – and at the same time heard Ji Minjun laugh from his bunk. Lee grinned happily; he was one of those guys who needed an audience, and Minjun was always ready to oblige. “Is he a cutie-pie idol like you?” he asked in a sing-song voice, pinching Seunghyun’s cheek. “Huh?”

Seunghyun did what he always did, which was fold his arms and wait it out stoically. He was always getting ragged on for his looks, but he supposed it could be a lot worse. At least he didn’t have a speech impediment like one of the other national service boys in their troop. Minjun sniggered. Seunghyun thought it was friendly, but sometimes it was hard to tell; the career soldiers were their own tribe and had their own in-jokes. They seemed to put up with him, though.

“Not much use looking like a movie star if the only letters it gets you are from your brother!”

Seunghyun sighed, and resolved to open his mail at night in future.

 

* * *

 

 

Around six months later Seunghyun and his group got in from a three-day patrol in a mountain range to the west. Led by Sergeant Kim, it had been the most challenging, exhausting, and thrilling exercise he had been on yet, on survival rations and in full battle rattle plus the comms gear he was in charge of. Kim had praised him upon debriefing, and said he could make it to acting Sergeant in another six months if he kept applying himself. Seunghyun liked to be told he was good at things, to have his own opinion of himself confirmed; it made him feel less of a self-satisfied jerk.

When he signed back in to the barracks he picked up his mail and found a chunky letter from Jiyong, which put him in an even better mood. He collapsed on his fold-out bunk and got under the blanket to warm up and read without being bothered. His brother’s letters were pretty happy affairs these days; Jiyong seemed to be thriving in the trainee residence, and had recently made his debut with another boy his own age. Seunghyun couldn’t claim to know much about idol culture, but from the sound of it the two of them were doing as much modelling on social media and appearing on random cable TV shows as singing. Well, no doubt the company knew best.

Seunghyun had had to snigger to himself fondly when Jiyong first sent him links and magazine clippings about him and his bandmate, usually making stupid faces and generally looking like comedians in over-fashionable clothes. His brother had hilariously come up with the stage name ‘G-Dragon’, and for reasons unknown YG had thought that was a good idea and let him keep it. Every time Seunghyun read it he laughed.

Today’s envelope contained a letter and another folded magazine page. Seunghyun held his penlight between his teeth and began to read in his blanket cave.

> _Tabi!_ wrote Jiyong, who had never learned to start a letter properly. _How’s the mountain treating you? Still got all your fingers and toes? Dad told me you’re doing some cool survival training soon, just like a movie. Please be careful! Anyway. Stuff is going pretty good here. I passed my exams, for last semester anyway, did I tell you? But more important, I got hired to model for a G Market ad! Not exactly brand but it’s a start; I didn’t think we’d get picked ‘cos me and Youngbae are so short, but guess YG was right, it never hurts to give it your all. Also, we finally released our first mini-album this week! I didn’t write all of it, obviously – YG says I won’t be allowed near a major single ‘til we’ve shown we can sell. I won’t stop writing, though. Oh, but I’m forgetting the point, I’m gonna be on TV! Not local stations, I mean MBC Music. It’s Show Champion on the 21 st, at 19:00. I don’t know what channels you get up there, but if you have the chance could you watch me? It’s live and I’m really nervous…If I can imagine you’re looking out for me I’d be so much better! What else? We’re up for Best Rookie. I think YG twisted their arm, so it’s not like we’re so amazing, but still. I’ve included the page from the TV guide. Please watch me if you can._
> 
> _Love J._

Seunghyun let his brain catch up with Jiyong’s breathless writing style, then unfolded the magazine page. Sure enough, _Show Champion_ was circled; underneath the title was a brief list of the episode’s performers, and there, at the bottom, he saw his brother’s dumb stage name with an enormous hand-drawn arrow and several exclamation marks. Seunghyun sat looking at it with a mixture of pride and amusement for a minute; then the significance of the date hit him. He stuck his head out of the blanket, looked at the clock, and jumped up.

“Sarge!” he called, striding into the rec room. A few off-duty soldiers looked round.

“You’re up already,” observed the national service Sergeant – unlike the career soldiers, these Red Caps were made temporary officers just by dint of nearing the end of their two years’ service; they enjoyed the privilege their rank gave them but didn’t do much else with it. Kim was the one really in charge, and everyone knew it. “Thought you lot would be dead on your asses.”

“Can I watch the TV?” asked Seunghyun, because guess who controlled the remote. “Just for an hour.”

“It’s a free country,” said the Sergeant, shrugging. Seunghyun tried to hide how antsy he was; it was already seven, and he didn’t want to risk missing even a second of Jiyong.

“I mean, can I change the channel? To MBC Music.”

“That pop crap?” The officer propped his feet on the chair beside his desk and leaned back, clearly in no hurry. “That’s the trouble with having teenage volunteers, you got no taste.”

“I’ll give you my cigarettes.” Seunghyun didn’t smoke much, but he was pretty good at cards and had amassed quite a stash to use as petty currency. The Sergeant shrugged again, and nodded at the remote.

“Knock yourself out. I’ll come get them later.”

Seunghyun took it as politely as possible, given his hurry, then pulled out a chair close to the TV and changed the channel. Private Ko, who was his own age and sometimes ate lunch with him, gave him a sidelong glance at having his show changed without a by-your-leave, but was too shy to say anything to the more popular boy. Seunghyun sighed; the show had started – the hosts were talking inanely, and the audience was laughing – but it didn’t look like any acts had performed yet. He sat and watched closely, even through the first commercial break; just in case.

“What you doing?” demanded Minjun, making him jump. The shorter soldier laughed. “Since when do you pay attention to anything that’s not an old movie or a textbook?”

“My little brother’s gonna be on TV.” Seunghyun found it impossible to hide the anticipation in his voice.

“Bullshit,” said Minjun. “The one who writes you all the time?” Seunghyun nodded. “What’s he doing on TV?”

“Singing, I guess,” said Seunghyun, who really had no idea what kind of music Jiyong and his partner had been making. “He’s with that idol label, YG. Tonight’s his first time.”

“Bullshit,” opined the older man again. “Hey, assholes! Pretty Boy says he has famous relatives!”

“I did not,” Seunghyun protested, but it was too late: Lee and the quiet Hyeonwoo strolled up behind him with part of their cleaning team and waited critically for an explanation. Seunghyun gave it to them before Minjun could get any more sarcastic. They made various disbelieving noises, then stood around loudly taking the piss while Seunghyun watched the screen and waited with some trepidation for Jiyong to appear.

After what seemed like ages the presenters started to announce the newest up-and-coming act from YG, the good-looking boys so popular on social media already, and blah blah blah.

“Shut up already,” muttered Seunghyun at both them and the career soldiers still teasing him in the background. Then the lights went down in the studio, and the music came up.

A spotlight faded in, and Seunghyun caught his breath: there was his brother, and God, it had been so long! Seunghyun barely noticed his bandmate beside him, he was so fixated on that glowing, familiar figure. For an instant Jiyong looked nervous; then a mild swell of approving sounds from the female audience kicked in as they clocked his pretty face, and his chin went up. He smiled that smile, the one that could stop Seunghyun in his tracks and give him an erection at ten paces. Jiyong licked his lips, and began to sing.

For a few seconds the soldiers kept up their clamour behind Seunghyun, before they noticed his rapt attention. Then they all stopped and gawked at the screen.

“Oh my god,” said Minjun after he got a good eyeful of Jiyong, nudging the unfortunate Ko out of his chair beside Seunghyun and straddling it to stare at the TV. “ _That’s_ your brother? So he really _is_ an idol.”

“Look at that baby face,” added Lee as he took a seat on his other side, grabbing the remote from Seunghyun to turn up the volume. The younger man relinquished it absently – he was used to Lee having to be the one in control. Lee nudged Seunghyun hard in the ribs. “Should’ve expected it from your gene pool, I guess.” He observed Jiyong’s bright digital figure critically. “He looks like he smells.”

“What the hell are you yapping about?” said Hyeonwoo, adjusting his glasses. “Looks like he smells!”

Seunghyun wished they would all be quiet so he could listen. It had been a year since he had heard his brother’s voice. Singing, he sounded young and sweet and cocky; his voice hadn’t dropped at all, and acted as a light counterpoint for the richer tones of his bandmate. And Lee was right, however annoying: Jiyong looked delicious. A stage light flashed off something in his ear, and Seunghyun saw they were pierced; he wondered what their father thought about _that_. Jiyong was wearing subtle eye makeup like all the idols these days, and it made his black gaze sparkle. Watching the teenage-girl audience applaud him as the song finished, Seunghyun felt a mixture of pride and loneliness constrict his heart. His brother was going to get what he wanted: he would be a star. And Seunghyun mustn’t even let him know he had watched.

“Pop these days is so cheesy,” complained Hyeonwoo, who always talked as if he was forty. Then the next act came on, a girl band, and all the guys in the room whooped and started making disgusting comments like the sex-starved idiots they were. Seunghyun tuned out, and closed his eyes to cement the vision of Jiyong in his head. He would keep it there for the next twelve months.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Seunghyun’s military service was over Jiyong was famous, at least with people who had any idea about teen idols. That meant he was a best-seller, and sought-after, and reasonably well-off. Thinking about it, about his brother’s happiness and how perfectly he had moved on with his life – just like he was supposed to – Seunghyun almost wished he could stay in the Army.

He wanted to see Jiyong so badly it hurt – it had been getting worse and worse this past year. But Jiyong’s letters betrayed nothing of the kind; he was so obviously thriving, had moved naturally into success. Seunghyun had to make sure it stayed that way. For at least three months he seriously considered not coming back, but staying and going career like their father had wanted to do; it seemed that running away was definitely Seunghyun’s forte.

In the end he gave in and had his discharge papers put in order. He was allowed on one more advanced training mission – arranged by Sergeant Kim, who quite regretted his going – then said goodbye to Minjun and all the others, for once managing to avoid being teased. Lee even surprised him by giving him a comradely hug, although Seunghyun did get a painful noogie at the same time.

 Then it was done, and he settled in for the bumpy ride out of the mountains. Seunghyun had given his father a vague timeframe for his homecoming; he was planning to stay at the house until the new semester started, now that Jiyong had moved out.

He didn’t give his father the exact date. Seunghyun knew he would be bound to tell Jiyong, and then the younger boy might turn up at home and ambush him. He needed to get himself together before any surprises of the kind. When he at last got back, however, he found he had been wrong on two counts. First, Jiyong was clearly way too busy to be ambushing anyone or even remembering that his brother was due home. Jiyong’s schedule was insane, said their father approvingly, as if exhaustion was somehow character-building.

“Oh, he loves it,” the older man said when Seunghyun exhibited concern. “You know, I really wasn’t sure at first, but that boy is a born celebrity: good-looking, charismatic…so sweet you don’t even care he’s got no brains.” He looked wistful; Seunghyun wondered if he was thinking of Jiyong’s mother.

“He’s not dumb,” said Seunghyun, towelling off his growing hair; he hadn’t known how much he missed luxuries like baths until he’d got home. “Just not very _scholarly_.”

“I know that,” replied his father comfortably, and handed him a coffee, the real expensive stuff. Seunghyun sighed appreciatively. “He’s just himself. Which is as much as I ever asked of him. Or you.”

The second thing Seunghyun had been wrong about hit him right then, as the older man spoke: Seunghyun _didn’t_ have himself together. He never would, he realised. There would never be a safe time to reunite with Jiyong. But now they were talking about him Seunghyun had to see him. _Now_. He couldn’t wait.

“Dad,” he interrupted urgently, “do you know where he is this afternoon? If he’s not too busy I want to go say hello.”

“Of course you do,” said his father. “I’m surprised you’ve hung around this long. I have no idea where he is, mind you, not since he rented his own place. Oh yes,” he continued, “Jiyong’s eighteen now, remember? How time does fly, eh? Officially he’s still living at the dorm, but he’s reached the age where he’ll want to start dating…” There had been something in a letter, thought Seunghyun as their father continued; he vaguely remembered being envious that his little brother got his own place while Seunghyun was sharing with a roomful of other men and their socks.

“I’ll text him.” Assuming Jiyong even had the same number now.

“Don’t bother. He never looks at his phone during work as far as I can tell. Here, I’ll give you his manager’s cell number and you can call him. He should have Jiyong’s schedule.” Seunghyun took it eagerly.

“Cheers, Dad. I’ll be back this evening.” His father raised his eyebrows.

“First time he’s seen you in two years? I won’t hold my breath.”

 

Seunghyun called Jiyong’s manager. He had half expected the man to disbelieve him or refuse to tell him the schedule – Jiyong was quite famous, he probably had journalists and weirdos trying to find out about him all the time – but to his surprise the manager, Hoang, forked it right over.

“Are you kidding?” he said, when Seunghyun asked him about it. “That boy talks about you so much I’m kind of bored of you already.” Seunghyun forced a laugh at that, and inside felt a pang of trepidation. How dangerous was this meeting going to be? He would have to be very, very sensible.

“Any chance of seeing him today?”

“If you’re around Seoul you can come down to the photo studio,” said Hoang. “They’re doing a fashion shoot for _Elle_. He should be finishing around seven. I’ll mention to the reception staff that you’re popping in.”

“Right,” replied Seunghyun, a quiver of excitement passing through him. “Oh. Er. This is my first day back from the military, so…could you keep it a surprise?” There was a pause, presumably while Hoang pondered whether it would put a crimp in Jiyong’s concentration to have his brother appear like a jack-in-the-box while he was being modelesque.

“Sure,” said the manager at last. “Well, I have to ring off. Enjoy your tearful reunion!” He put the phone down. Sarcastic bugger, thought Seunghyun; mind you, someone with some spikiness was probably required to keep narcissistic teen idols in their place. He went upstairs and checked his appearance: a bit tanned and basic, but it would have to do. He took a deep breath, then headed into the city.

Seunghyun arrived at the _Elle_ building a couple of hours later. He had to explain who he was at the front desk; for some reason they thought he was a model looking for work. Once the perfectly dressed girl had checked his name against a list she sent him up to the tenth floor. Seunghyun’s nervous anticipation started to overflow as he travelled up in the lift, and by the time he got out his hands were sweaty.

There were various well-groomed people and scruffy techs hurrying around the dimly-lit corridor, none of whom stopped to speak to him or ask him what he was doing there. Seunghyun didn’t know which studio the shoot was in, and he could hardly go opening random doors and poking his head in. So he called Jiyong’s manager again.

“I’m not there right now,” Hoang told him distractedly, “I’m coming out of a meeting. It’s Studio C. Just wait by the inner door and I’ll tell the director someone’s here to meet him.”

“Thanks.” Seunghyun hung up, located the right room, and went through the big outer doors to stand and wait in the dark foyer inside. Various magazine people came and went; when he peeked into the studio, all Seunghyun could see was a wash of light and colour. It felt as though he had been there an age; in reality it was close to twenty minutes. Seunghyun passed the time wondering how Jiyong would react to him now he was a celebrity – now that they were on his turf.

As he was worrying the inner door bounced open again, and Seunghyun’s heart stopped. Jiyong came through, calling back into the studio as he went.

“Youngbae can finish up, right? But I won’t be long, I-”

“Jiyong,” said Seunghyun quietly. The younger man’s head snapped round at the sound of his name; he froze, staring at Seunghyun in the dim space as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A range of expressions flitted across his face. Then:

“Tabi!!” cried Jiyong, and rushed him. Seunghyun didn’t know how he had been planning to handle this, the first moment he laid eyes on his brother again. As it was Jiyong launched himself at him, and Seunghyun had to catch him to stop them both being knocked backwards on their asses. And once he had caught him he couldn’t let go.

“I’m home,” muttered Seunghyun redundantly. Jiyong’s arms were tight around him, almost crushing the breath out of him as the soft spikes of the boy’s hair brushed his cheek.

“ _Tabi, Tabi_ ,” repeated Jiyong, sounding quite delirious; Seunghyun thought he was laughing. He sank his face into Jiyong’s perfectly styled hair and inhaled.

“…You smell amazing!” said Seunghyun frankly, and felt Jiyong laugh harder against him. Dumb first words, but he couldn’t think of anything sensible to say. For a long minute Jiyong clasped him tight, ignoring the people stepping past them. Then he pulled back, taking Seunghyun by the wrist as if to stop him running off, and just stared up at him.

“When did you get out?” Jiyong asked, not looking away for a second. Seunghyun felt the warmth of his attention like a bright beacon.

“Yesterday. I got back this lunchtime.”

“And you came right to find me.” Jiyong looked delighted, as if Seunghyun hadn’t spent the last two years refusing to give him so much as a word or a line to say he cared.

“Well,” said Seunghyun idiotically, “it’s been a while.” Jiyong laughed again at that; Seunghyun was alert for some cynicism behind his tone, some resentment of Seunghyun’s neglect. But Jiyong was plainly giddy with excitement.

“Come in!” said Jiyong, tugging on Seunghyun’s wrist. “I wanna see you in the light.”

“What about work?”

“We just got done,” Jiyong explained, pulling him towards the studio doors. “Youngbae’s still finishing up; he always takes longer, he’s not as photogenic as me.”

“Vain much?!” exclaimed Seunghyun affectionately.

“Well, shouldn’t I be? You tell me, Tabi.” Jiyong grinned at him, then shouldered the doors open and dragged him into the bright studio light. And Seunghyun had to stop right there to drink him in.

Jiyong had grown up – photos didn’t show the full extent of it, thought Seunghyun, captivated. All right, not so much the clothes; he was wearing tight jeans with a neon pink tshirt tucked into them, silver glittering in his ears and on his high-end sneakers. An outfit for teenage rich kids; Seunghyun supposed the clothes belonged to the magazine, though they were definitely Jiyong’s style.

It was the boy himself who had changed. He hadn’t got a lot taller, maybe an inch or so, but it was as though his entire person had been refined. He was as slender as ever, and with it came a poise he must have learned from being constantly in front of a camera. His hand on Seunghyun’s wrist was strong, with long, elegant fingers. The last picture Seunghyun had seen of him his hair had still been black; now it was a glowing platinum, sculpted by some expert into gravity-defying geometry. Having the bangs pushed back from his forehead gave Seunghyun a clear view of his features in the light, and that was what really got him. Jiyong had lost almost all his baby fat, leaving behind the most beautiful little face that combined a sweet roundness with foxy, delicate angles. You could cut yourself on his cheekbones, thought Seunghyun, and then have those lush lips kiss it better.

Seunghyun tried to put that train of thought out of his mind quickly, and just shook his head. Still, Jiyong seemed to interpret his silence as speechless admiration – quite correctly – and beamed sunnily at him. He grabbed Seunghyun’s other wrist and tugged him over to the corner, where women in neat black and ponytails were beginning to pack up the vast swathes of makeup and clothing.

“Hey,” announced Jiyong to the room at large, “come meet my big brother!” Several of the younger women looked up, then did a double take. Jiyong tucked his arm through Seunghyun’s in a proprietary way.

“Ooh, the famous brother,” said one of the girls, advancing on Jiyong. They were obviously on quite familiar terms, though a couple of the youngest ones at the back of the room were looking at him like he was a faraway, magical being.

“Wow,” said another, looking Seunghyun up and down in an expert way that made him feel as if he was a pedigree dog being evaluated. “You could have brought him before, GD!” Jiyong smiled proudly, still hanging on his arm.

“He’s been in the Army. This is his first day back! Isn’t he handsome?!”

“Yes,” they all chorused. Seunghyun blushed uncomfortably, and Jiyong’s grin widened.

“More than me, right?”

“Oh, yes!”

Seunghyun glanced down to see how this bit of honesty would go over with his brother, but Jiyong just grinned back up at him as if Seunghyun was his personal property to show off.

“Do you model?” asked the first girl. “You’re so tall.” Seunghyun started.

“Me? What? No!”

“Tabi’s gonna be a lawyer,” said Jiyong smugly, still holding on to his arm.

“Brains too,” remarked one woman to another, giving Seunghyun a frankly interested stare. He was starting to feel flustered. To his relief, at that moment another boy wandered over from the far side of the studio. Seunghyun recognised him as Jiyong’s bandmate, but couldn’t remember his stupid stage name.

“I’m done,” said the boy, stretching. He was as muscular as Jiyong was slender. There was a pause. “Jiyong,” said the boy pointedly, as they all stood there waiting. “Are you gonna introduce us, or what?”

“Oh, right!” Jiyong quit looking at Seunghyun for a minute and introduced his bandmate.

“Nice to meet you,” said Taeyang – Youngbae – politely. Jiyong got off Seunghyun’s arm so he could shake the boy’s hand. The Wardrobe girls were still watching them with interest.

“Ah!” exclaimed Jiyong suddenly, making Seunghyun jump. “We were meant to have dinner after this! At that new Michelin starred place.” He looked at Seunghyun, and in that look the older man could read how much Jiyong wanted to be alone with him. “What should we do? I wanna spend time with Tabi!”

“Just bring him,” said Youngbae patiently. He smiled at Seunghyun. “If you want to come? It’s Turkish.”

“How many did Hoang reserve for?” demanded Jiyong.

“You’re _famous_ ,” the spokeswoman for the Wardrobe girls reminded him. “They can add another seat.”

“Do you mind, Tabi?” asked Jiyong anxiously. Seunghyun shook his head mutely, feeling both disappointed and grateful to Youngbae for helping him dodge a bullet. He didn’t know how safe it was to be alone with Jiyong right now; not with his own feelings running so high.

“There,” Youngbae said. “I gotta get changed.” He walked off.

“You want to change, GD?” asked the lead girl. “If you like them, Head of Wardrobe says you can keep the clothes.”

“Sure. Thanks, _noona_!” Jiyong gave the assembled women a most charming smile; he’d obviously been practicing, thought Seunghyun. They certainly _looked_ charmed. “Oh, and…I know you guys are busy, but you have the _best_ taste. Can you find something for my brother to borrow? Seeing as we’re going somewhere special!”

“What?” said Seunghyun, startled. They all stared closely at him, and appeared to be enjoying the view.

“Oh, yes,” said the lead girl happily. “There’s still some stuff in the back from when we did the soccer players’ shoot yesterday.

“Something grown-up,” Jiyong pointed out. “Tabi’s not like me, he’s got class!”

“Leave him to us. You go and take your makeup off.” Two of the women beckoned Seunghyun, and when he didn’t immediately follow Jiyong gave him a push.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?!” protested Seunghyun. Had two years on a mountain really demolished his sense of style? Jiyong and the girls all laughed, and then he was led away.

 

Jiyong was changed and deciding what jewellery to wear when Jaeeun and the others brought his brother back. He hadn’t wanted to let Seunghyun out of his sight; it made Jiyong so deeply happy to look at him. He had never felt such a skittering in his heart as when Seunghyun had appeared just now. The first time in years! Jiyong didn’t know if Seunghyun had been following his social media or looking at the articles Jiyong had sent him when he was first becoming successful. All he knew was that he hadn’t seen his older brother for two solid years. Not one visit, not one Skype call. If it hadn’t been for the crazy hard work it took to become an idol, he didn’t know how he would have got through it.

Now he watched Seunghyun approach hungrily. The older boy – no, thought Jiyong, taking in his brother’s strong, lean frame properly revealed in well-cut dark jeans and blazer; Seunghyun was a _man_ now. Jiyong swallowed; he looked delicious.

“Bit shy, this one,” said Jaeeun, leading the recalcitrant young man over to Jiyong. Seunghyun was looking flustered. “He wouldn’t even take his socks off in front of us!” Jiyong laughed fondly.

“You did a good job, though.”

“Right?” The stylists looked up at Seunghyun admiringly. “He looks _great_.” Seunghyun frowned and blushed harder.

“Take our picture!” Jiyong unlocked his phone and handed it to one of the younger assistants, who suddenly looked like it was her birthday. He bounced over to Seunghyun and slid his arms around his waist. He felt his brother tense up against him, and wondered if it was because of the camera or because Jiyong was making him nervous. He hoped the latter. Jiyong knew Seunghyun had run off to the Army to put a permanent stop to their relationship; had he really gotten over Jiyong? The younger boy was desperate to find out.

“Smile!” ordered Jaeeun, gesturing at Seunghyun, who was staring at the camera like a deer in the headlights. The assistant took a picture and she sighed. “Is that the best he can do?”

“Can we take one too?” asked one of the other girls; they were all waving their phones now. Jiyong was quite used to this, despite the fact that they seemed more fixated on Seunghyun than himself. Well, it was hardly surprising; his brother was perfect. He let them all take photos, some of them sneaking in to get in the frame with the two young men. Once they were done they all stopped to check their phones gleefully.

“You know,” said Jaeeun, in a tone of surprise, “he’s so stiff and awkward posing, but look at this.” She gave Jiyong his phone back. Seunghyun looked fantastic in the picture, tall and brooding and dignified next to Jiyong’s youthful androgyny.

“Nice, Tabi!” exclaimed Jiyong, who could see he clearly hated this. He still had one arm around Seunghyun’s waist. It felt so good to be close to him.

“Can we go, please?” said Seunghyun in a low tone; Jiyong had missed that beautiful voice! “Where’s your bandmate?”

“All right, all right.” Jiyong spent several minutes thanking the staff – he was always careful about that stuff – then they left, collecting Youngbae on the way out.

The restaurant was very cool. Jiyong was new enough to fame that fancy places were still exciting to him; it felt funny to be high school age and get the best table, to have waitresses nudging each other and surreptitiously ogling him. He let Youngbae order; his friend was usually pretty solid when it came to food choices, and Seunghyun was maybe a bit overwhelmed at being thrown back into the middle of Seoul’s social scene after years up a mountain.

Jiyong spent dinner making his brother feel comfortable, getting him drinks, making easy conversation to help him unwind. Eventually Seunghyun relaxed and gave him a smile.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” said Youngbae, observing Jiyong as if he was exhibiting a peculiar new skill.

“Like what?” asked Seunghyun, grabbing the last kebab while his brother was distracted.

“Not being a brat.” Jiyong’s bandmate grinned.

“Hey!” said Jiyong, indignant.

“Not denying it, I see,” Seunghyun teased him. Youngbae snorted in amusement.

“As it happens,” said Jiyong with great dignity, “people _love_ it when I’m a brat. They think I’m cute. _Don’t_ they, BaeBae!” he added, leaning across to pinch the other boy’s cheek. He liked teasing his stolid friend. Youngbae sighed. Seunghyun was watching this exchange approvingly; Jiyong was glad he seemed to like Youngbae.

“Lay off,” ordered Youngbae, and went on with his dinner. Jiyong subsided slightly. Then Seunghyun jumped as Jiyong’s hand touched his own under the table. Jiyong waited to see if his brother would push him away, then tangled the older man’s fingers with his. Seunghyun looked worried, but did nothing.

“Am I a brat, Tabi?”

“One hundred percent,” said Seunghyun fervently.

 

“Right,” said Youngbae, after two hours had passed very pleasantly. “I gotta get an early night.”

“Means he’s seeing his girlfriend,” Jiyong informed Seunghyun, who had disengaged his fingers from Jiyong’s when he went to the bathroom and was now keeping them safely to himself. Youngbae rolled his eyes at Jiyong, threw some cash on the table, shook hands with Seunghyun and walked out.

“I ought to get back too,” Seunghyun said quickly, to Jiyong’s alarm. “I told Dad I’d be home tonight.”

“…But I thought we could go out!” Jiyong gave his brother his best puppy-dog eyes. “It’s been aaaages, Tabi, I wanna catch up properly!”

“Another time,” said Seunghyun gently. But Jiyong wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Please,” he said, and Seunghyun finally looked at him. “It’s been two years, and I haven’t heard from you once. Let’s just go get a drink; I wanna hear about all the cool stuff you did!”

“I…” Seunghyun paused, then sighed. “All right. One drink.”

 

Three drinks later Seunghyun had thawed out again, and they were laughing together about his troop and the dumb stuff they had to do for their Captain.

“…Did you do something to your teeth?” asked Seunghyun suddenly; he had been peering at Jiyong intently for the last ten minutes. Jiyong laughed at himself: he’d thought Seunghyun had been admiring him, but his brother was just trying to work out what was different.

“YG finally decided I was worth investing in,” he told Seunghyun with a wry grin. “After he saw our mini-album sales. So he paid for me to get them done.”

“Very pretty.” Seunghyun blushed, and Jiyong wondered if he was getting drunk yet. Jiyong ran his tongue over his straight white teeth; what was his brother’s opinion on cosmetic work? He was thinking of getting the tiny bump on his nose straightened out too. Would Seunghyun disapprove of that? The older man’s face was so exceptionally perfect, he might not understand… But Seunghyun was still smiling at him warmly, so maybe it was okay.

“So,” said Seunghyun at last, sitting back on his stool and setting down his glass on the bar, “tell me how things have been going for you. Other than getting yourself beautified.” Jiyong smiled at him and shook his head.

“Don’t pretend, Tabi,” he scolded gently. “I _know_ you read my letters; I know you cared how I was doing.”

“How?” asked Seunghyun awkwardly. Jiyong patted his arm, just to be touching him.

“You always interrogated Dad about me. He told me how interested you were; he used to nag me for not calling you often enough.” Seunghyun looked guilty; served him right for blocking Jiyong’s phone.

“It was for the best,” said the older man quietly.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Jiyong told him, smiling brightly. “You’re back, aren’t you?” He wasn’t going to say anything that could make Seunghyun resent him now – there would be plenty of time to punish him later. He waved to the barman. “Here, have another drink.”

“I’d better not.” But the barman was already lining them up. Jiyong pushed Seunghyun’s glass over to him; their fingers touched. That was enough to get him drinking again.

“…Aren’t you angry with me?” burst out Seunghyun, another round later. A light flush had risen on his cheeks and he had pushed the sleeves of his blazer back to bare the muscles of his forearms. This was the clearest sign to Jiyong that his brother was getting tipsy.

“Angry?” said Jiyong, who knew exactly what he was talking about. He laid his head down on the bar and peered up at Seunghyun; Jiyong was not as drunk as all that, but he wasn’t about to let on.

“Yeah.” Seunghyun’s hand twitched like he wanted to pet Jiyong’s hair. “You know. For not answering your letters. For being a jerk.”

“Mm. To be honest, I was so busy…I thought I was gonna collapse, some days. So I just got over it.” Jiyong smiled up at him. “And you’re back now.”

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun again. He sounded ambivalent about that. His lips thinned, and Jiyong saw him move to stand up. “I gotta go,” he said, slurring just a little.

“Wait!” Jiyong’s hand shot out and he grabbed Seunghyun’s wrist. “Please, Tabi,” he said lightly, smiling lazily at him again. “One more drink.” Seunghyun looked distressed; Jiyong could tell he was torn. “C’mon. Tell me more about your troop.” His brother sat back down.

An hour later Jiyong gauged that Seunghyun was in the perfect receptive state; he was relaxed and talking again, a cute giggle punctuating his sentences. It struck Jiyong that he had never actually seen the older man drunk; it was very charming.

“Okay,” pronounced Jiyong, allowing the tipsiness in his own voice to bleed through. “Time to go home!” He pulled Seunghyun to his feet. “Is there a taxi?” he asked the barman, who nodded. “Is that all right, Tabi?” he said, leading his brother to the lift. Seunghyun paused to gawp at the city view. “The taxi can take me first, then he’ll drive you home. Okay?”

“‘Kay,” said Seunghyun affably.

They got in the cab. Jiyong pushed Seunghyun back to lean his head against the seat, and gave the address of his apartment to the driver.

“Nearly there, Tabi,” he said softly, as they pulled into the night traffic. “Just a little bit further to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could never keep track of GD's real managers, so I just made one up and I'm sticking with him :)
> 
> The final part of Book 1 will be up tomorrow. Thank you to everyone who's taken a chance so far on reading an incomplete fic!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun finally stops running - once Jiyong trips him up.

Seunghyun jerked out of a light doze to find the cab had pulled up outside a shiny new apartment complex. Through the fog of alcohol he saw Jiyong roll down the window, stick his head out and exchange a slurred greeting with the gate guard like the teenage delinquent he still was. The taxi rolled on up to the building.

“…Here you are,” said Seunghyun, nudging him; Jiyong had curled up into a sleepy ball in his corner.

“Tabi…” replied Jiyong slowly, unfurling his limbs in an exaggerated stretch. “Oof! How much did you let me drink?”

“You did that on your own!” pointed out Seunghyun, who didn’t exactly feel sober himself. Jiyong grinned at him dopily. Seunghyun felt a mild niggle of guilt: celebrity he might be, but Jiyong was still technically an underage drinker whose older brother should have known better. The taxi door opened and Jiyong clambered out, then started giggling, holding on to it like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

“Whoops! Fellover.” He pressed his lips together in an achingly familiar gesture that drew attention to the curve of his mouth. “Tabi…”

“Yes?” Jiyong leaned back in precariously.

“Can you give me a hand? Just up to the door. I think…” He hiccupped. “Think I might’ve overdone it.”

Oh, Seunghyun had serious misgivings about that, although it wasn’t Jiyong’s fortitude he was worried about. Had _he_ drunk enough for his judgement to be impaired?

“Do you have your keys?” he asked severely. Jiyong patted his pockets.

“Yeah, but…I might fall over.”

“Oh, for…” Seunghyun sighed, and got out of the cab with slightly more dignity. “Will you wait?” he asked the driver.

“He will,” Jiyong assured him. “I always use this firm.” He shut the door, too hard, then balanced himself with an outstretched hand on Seunghyun’s shoulder.

Seunghyun took his brother up to his apartment on the nineteenth floor, letting Jiyong lean on him at the greatest distance possible, not least because there was a distinct possibility the boy would be sick on him. Jiyong fumbled for his key card, missed the slot twice and gave up, handing it over to Seunghyun. Seunghyun pushed the door open.

“Tabi…” came Jiyong’s dismayed voice from behind him. “Think I’m…gonna throw up…”

Seunghyun went hurriedly inside and groped in the entrance for a light. He would get Jiyong a glass of water and help him to the bathroom, and as soon as he’d checked he was okay Seunghyun would be out of there. But before he could find the switch he heard the door shut firmly behind him. As he turned, the light came on.

Jiyong was standing in front of the closed door, looking right at him with an alertness Seunghyun suddenly found very suspect.

“So,” said Jiyong, and his voice was clear and level. “Here we are.” He smiled his sweet smile, tipsy but absolutely not drunk. “Right where I always wanted you.”

“What?” managed Seunghyun dumbly, his own mist of liquor beginning to evaporate in alarm.

“In my house.” Seunghyun started as Jiyong reached back without looking and snapped the lock. “And if you ever want to get out of here, Tabi, it’s gonna be via my bed.” Seunghyun felt his jaw drop.

“Jiyong,” he said, trying to sound reasonable above the deep sense of foreboding in the pit of his stomach. “This old game…just let it stay in the past. We’re both grown up now.”

“Yes,” agreed Jiyong, leaning back against the door, which only made Seunghyun feel trapped. “We are. Which means I’m old enough to know what I want. And I’m not letting you out of here until you show me you love me.”

“I…” Seunghyun scraped a hand unsteadily through his hair; he felt too hot. Jiyong had tipped his head back to be able to look down at him, his fine bones and long throat terribly enticing. “I _do_ love you, Jiyong,” Seunghyun said earnestly. “Of course I do: you’re my little brother; and that’s it. That’s what I came to understand these past two years.”

“I didn’t ask you to tell me,” said Jiyong deliberately. “I asked you to _show_ me.”

“This is ridiculous.” Seunghyun’s panic overspilled and he strode towards the door; Jiyong would move when he saw Seunghyun was serious, and if he didn’t he was small enough to _be_ moved. “You’re drunk,” he stated. But Jiyong didn’t get out of the way, just flattened his outstretched arms across the door to more effectively block his brother’s exit. Seunghyun came to a halt right in front of him, too scared to touch him, and they stood there at an impasse.

“I’m not drunk,” explained the younger man, as if to an idiot. “I want you. I love you. Is that plain enough?”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Seunghyun exclaimed desperately. “Seeing each other again after so long, it’s got you confused!”

“Bullshit,” snapped Jiyong. “I’ve _never_ been confused about you, not since I was sixteen. Two years without you just made it clearer. And you’re not confused, you’re scared! But I’m not a kid anymore, Tabi,” he continued, softer. “That excuse won’t work now.” And with that he reached out.

“Don’t touch me!” Seunghyun didn’t think he could bear it. “You’re not a child anymore,” he agreed, clinging to reason. “But you’re still my brother, and we still can’t do this!”

Jiyong ignored him completely, slim fingers connecting with Seunghyun’s new designer belt and reeling him in until they were just inches apart. Seunghyun stared down at him, absolutely horrified at his body’s lack of resistance.

“We can,” murmured Jiyong, also gazing down at his hands holding Seunghyun in place. “We _have_. The only thing to be scared of is someone finding out.”

“Only!” Seunghyun ground out, engaged in a mortal struggle against Jiyong’s allure; it had just deepened over time, and his brother looked so exquisite and smelled so good! Jiyong was right; in that moment Seunghyun was forced to admit it, to himself, at least: he loved Jiyong as much as ever, more; quite madly. And now he wanted him _desperately_. He should never have come back, he thought with a chill.

“Yes. But I can hide it,” said Jiyong. “It’s a skill we learn. I can teach you.”

“…We?”

“Everyone in this business is stuffed full of secrets. People hiding rivalries and drug habits and affairs.” Jiyong set his shoulders determinedly, and slid his hand up to rest over Seunghyun’s heart. “Ours will be bigger, that’s all. We can do it.” He looked up, lovely face set stubbornly. “I won’t let anything keep you from me, Tabi. Not even you.”

“Jiyong…”

“Give it up,” said Jiyong softly, and kissed him. Seunghyun resisted an admirably long time – a full five seconds – before he let out a despairing noise and shoved Jiyong back against the door. The younger man’s hand fisted in his shirt and yanked him closer, accompanied by a sound of absolute longing as Jiyong parted his lips. Seunghyun had forgotten the taste, the feel of him! You couldn’t hold it in your mind, it had to be _experienced_ , and the impact of Jiyong’s physicality did more to blast away Seunghyun’s resolve than all the persuasive speeches in the world. The sweetness of his kiss was like an assault.

“ _Baby_ ,” muttered Seunghyun; he felt Jiyong shiver at the old endearment, and raised his hand to nudge gently at the boy’s delicate jaw until his brother opened his mouth further to let Seunghyun’s tongue flick inside. “This is such a mistake…!”

Jiyong let out a fervent hum of disagreement, taking Seunghyun’s other hand in his strong fingers and lifting it to join its mate. Seunghyun cradled his head and kissed him harder, hands tight on that famous little face. Only a handful of seconds had passed, but already he was unable to imagine trying to resist this: Jiyong’s lips fit so perfectly against his, the adoration radiating off him like a furnace. Not having a choice, Seunghyun offered himself up for immolation.

“ _I love you_ ,” Jiyong was repeating over and over, as the older man’s mouth pressed kisses along the side of his jaw, beneath his ear, and to the point in his neck where Seunghyun could feel the pulse racing beneath his skin. “I knew you’d come back to me…” He clung to his brother, sighing with pleasure when Seunghyun pushed his fingers through his sculpted blonde hair. Seunghyun himself felt drunk again, this time on sensory overload: the smell of Jiyong’s skin, the sweet sounds he made, the heat of his body; it had been too long. _Idiot_! he thought dimly. He had left it too long…

“…You’re not gonna run again?” Seunghyun felt Jiyong’s hands tugging at his belt buckle.

“ _No_ ,” promised Seunghyun, utterly stupid with desire. He kissed Jiyong deeply, tongue silently speaking the eloquent words his brain was too scared to conceive.

“Good,” breathed Jiyong. “Come with me.”

They stumbled into the apartment. Jiyong kept knocking them into things, apparently blind to everything but the man in his arms, and Seunghyun was just as bad; by the time they reached the bedroom Seunghyun had no idea what he’d seen en route. All he could see was Jiyong’s flushed face. Nevertheless:

“Shit,” said Seunghyun, momentarily distracted, “that is a huge bed!” How very diva of Jiyong, he thought blurrily; you could fit five people in it. Jiyong leaned up and kissed him teasingly, a soft brush of his pink lips, and pushed the blazer off his shoulders as best he could.

“It’s been waiting for you,” Seunghyun heard him whisper, and was hard immediately. Jiyong noticed at once, and practically purred as he insinuated himself against Seunghyun’s front. Seunghyun hoped it would be worth Jiyong’s while: he had been almost abstinent during his military service, what with the lack of privacy and his extreme shyness about his own skin. If Jiyong kept on at this rate, he wasn’t going to make it five minutes.

“…You mean no-one else…?” he demanded, dragging his hands down Jiyong’s sides to skim over his hips and ass. “No nubile fangirls? No pop princesses?”

“No-one,” Jiyong promised breathlessly. “It’s been waiting with me…just for this!”

The sight of the bed had fired Seunghyun’s unworthy primitive instincts, lust and jealousy combined. Now Jiyong’s admission gave him such a thrill that he scooped the smaller boy up bodily and carried him manfully over to the four-poster.

“Wah!” Jiyong gasped in surprise, then let out a delighted laugh as Seunghyun easily set him standing on the bed. He looked down at the older man and licked his lips. “Tabi!” he said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him close. “You got really strong!” So saying he tugged open the expensive borrowed shirt, running one finger down the skin beneath the cloth as the buttons came undone. Seunghyun shivered at his touch.

“Holy shit,” breathed Jiyong blasphemously, as Seunghyun removed the shirt. Before Seunghyun could react the boy was on his knees among the bedcovers. When Seunghyun tried to meet his gaze and see what the fuss was about, Jiyong was staring at the bigger man’s torso in a way that made him feel quite shy again.

“What?” Seunghyun curled his hand around the back of Jiyong’s slender neck.

“You look _so good_ ,” said Jiyong solemnly. “You never told Dad the Army gave you _this_!”

“I…didn’t really notice,” explained Seunghyun, but by then Jiyong was touching him, long fingers tracing his muscles admiringly, down and down until they came to the open button of his jeans.

“Well, _I_ did!” Jiyong’s high voice had turned a little hoarse, and when Seunghyun hesitantly slid a hand between his legs his arousal was evident. “God, Tabi.” He swallowed heavily. “I can’t _wait_ to have you.”

“I’m not all that!” exclaimed Seunghyun, who was suffering the beginnings of performance anxiety. “You’re just…overexcited… ‘cos you’ve gone without for months!” He gasped as Jiyong’s fingers found their way into his pants.

“Years,” Jiyong corrected him, licking his lips again. Seunghyun reached in to kiss him. “No, don’t move, Tabi. I want you in my mouth.” Seunghyun’s eyes widened; just hearing the younger boy say it was almost enough to get him there, and if Jiyong actually _did_ it…

“Whoa, whoa,” he said shakily, playing for time. “At least take your clothes off so I can see you.” To his relief that seemed enough to distract Jiyong, whose new career in the spotlight hadn’t made him any less narcissistic, or less confident in the ability of his body to knock his brother for six. Without a hint of shyness Jiyong peeled off his clothes in a couple of practiced, easy movements and knelt there on the big bed letting Seunghyun stare at him.

Seunghyun found that while Jiyong hadn’t grown any bigger, two years of dancing had made him perfectly toned. Where he’d been a skinny kid before he was now lithe as a cat and shaped quite exquisitely, and –

“Hey!” Seunghyun said, shocked. “You’ve got a tattoo!!”

“Gosh, thanks for telling me!” Jiyong smirked at him and sat down, extending his slim right calf to let him see. “Actually I have two so far.” He twisted gracefully and Seunghyun saw another on the back of his shoulder. The older man gingerly touched the inked skin on Jiyong’s leg, allowing the tips of his fingers to linger there, stroking; tattooed hoodlum or not, his brother felt far too good to stop touching. Jiyong made a small, pleased noise; he was hard.

“You’re a very bad boy,” Seunghyun told him honestly. Jiyong just smiled at that, the most carnal smile Seunghyun had ever seen, and leaned forward to grab him by the waistband again and tug him to the edge of the bed. He slid his hands down Seunghyun’s hips, drawing the fabric with them, and as soon as the bigger man’s erection sprang free he bent his elegant neck; Seunghyun felt his knees go weak as Jiyong’s lyrical tongue brushed across the tip, tasting him.

“Jiyong,” managed Seunghyun in an embarrassingly shaky voice, “if you start that…I’m gonna come in about ten seconds!”

“So come.” Jiyong looked up at him, fair hair glowing around his face. “And then I’ll start again.” Seunghyun didn’t know if it was the alcohol or pure lust that was making it hard to stand up, but he wished Jiyong would stop talking. “You only let me do this _once_ before you ran out on me,” the boy chided him, frustration creeping into his voice. “I loved how I felt when I was blowing you, I’m hardly gonna pass up the chance now when I’ve been fantasizing for goddamn years!”

“Please,” begged Seunghyun, “no more talking! You’re making it worse…”

“Good,” pronounced Jiyong, and took Seunghyun’s cock in his mouth.

Seunghyun was right, it turned out, though that didn’t mean he was proud of it; it only took a minute of staring down at Jiyong’s beautiful face and its expression of hungry concentration, of feeling that tight, wet heat after so long, before Seunghyun came. He sank his hands into Jiyong’s blonde hair, unable to keep himself quiet. Jiyong made a highly satisfied noise, hands squeezing his ass to keep him close.

“…I love you,” Seunghyun told him helplessly, trying to control his breathing.

“Yeah,” said Jiyong, wiping his mouth with the back of one graceful hand. “You’d say that to anyone after two years having to do it yourself!” His dark eyes sparkled up at Seunghyun; all his solemnity had vanished, it seemed, now his brother was under his spell again, and he looked radiantly happy. Seunghyun bent down and kissed him gratefully, and Jiyong wrapped his arms around the older man’s back and drew him onto the bed.

“That…was crazy,” murmured Seunghyun. He closed his hands on Jiyong’s narrow waist and began to leisurely explore the changed lines of his body.

“Excellent,” said Jiyong smugly, gasping into Seunghyun’s short hair as his brother appreciatively kneaded the firm, juicy curves of his ass and thighs. “Because I want you to last for a good long time when you take me.” Seunghyun quickly raised his head from where he had been nuzzling Jiyong’s nipple.

“…What?”

“I’m eighteen, Tabi.” Jiyong smoothed his thumb fondly over Seunghyun’s high cheekbone. “Don’t tell me you weren’t thinking about fucking me as soon as you clapped eyes on me.”

“I wasn’t!!” Seunghyun spluttered at Jiyong’s sceptical expression. “…And could you be any more vain?!”

“Well, _I_ was imagining you fucking me,” said Jiyong, unperturbed. “Remember that day I stopped you? You _know_ we were ready. And you can’t say I’m too young anymore!”

“I…”

“Please, Tabi,” Jiyong entreated softly, arching up into him. Seunghyun could feel him hard against his stomach. “I love you so much, and we’ve waited so long…”

Seunghyun paused, and Jiyong looked up at him appealingly while he agonized: this was still _wrong_. He knew it in his bones. But his religious and moral centre was at such a great distance from him now, while his love for Jiyong was enough to overwhelm him. So: what did it mean to truly love Jiyong? To try and protect his virtue like he had in the past, his chance for a normal future? Or to make him happy?

Seunghyun shook his head. Jiyong was _right_ ; he was older now, and self-centred enough to know exactly what he wanted. And any chance of a normal life had gone out the window when Jiyong signed with YG. That would make it far more dangerous for them to be together, but…

“Yes,” said Seunghyun at last. “I can’t fight you; I don’t _want_ to fight you. I want to be yours.”

Jiyong blinked rapidly a few times, and Seunghyun wondered if he had made the boy cry. He hadn’t meant to! But Jiyong just kissed him passionately, arms around his neck. Seunghyun experienced an oddly blissful drowning sensation, probably because Jiyong wouldn’t let him up for air until they were both gasping. When he stopped the younger boy was flushed and breathing deeply, his pink lips shining. It was the most seductive sight. Jiyong took Seunghyun’s hand and raised it to his mouth; Seunghyun traced the curve of his smile rapturously, then inhaled as Jiyong’s tongue curled around his middle finger before taking it in deeply. Seunghyun felt his libido begin to wake up again. He nudged his index finger against Jiyong’s lips and without blinking the boy swallowed that down too, keeping his brother’s large hand trapped while he sucked on the digits as if they were candy.

“Mmm.” Jiyong released Seunghyun’s fingers, kissing the tips. “Do that thing to me,” he said in a low voice. “That amazing thing.”

“…I haven’t tried that since the last time,” Seunghyun warned him. “I dunno if I still can.”

“You’re so smart,” Jiyong challenged him. “Figure it out!” Seunghyun kissed him again, then took hold of his hips.

“Lie down.” He directed Jiyong onto his stomach. Jiyong rested his head on his folded arms and sighed in anticipation; Seunghyun grabbed one of the many pillows scattered around. “Lift your hips up, then.” He slid the pillow underneath Jiyong to support him comfortably. Just looking at the smaller boy lying there so happily with his incredible ass invitingly raised was getting Seunghyun excited. He set one hand to Jiyong’s smooth back and slid it down his spine, trailing it teasingly over his buttocks before parting his thighs.

“Do it, Tabi,” ordered Jiyong impatiently, pressing himself into the pillow to get some friction on his erection. Seunghyun pushed one wet finger into him, and Jiyong’s eyes fluttered closed. To the older man’s slight perturbation he was as tight as the first time; as if Seunghyun had never been there at all.

“It’s been two years,” Seunghyun said huskily. “…You’re not used to this anymore.”

“And whose fault is that?” Jiyong reached behind him and groped for Seunghyun’s hand, pushing it forward to force him deeper. “Don’t stop…” Seunghyun obeyed him, laying a kiss across the tattoo on his shoulder before working his finger all the way inside, trying to remember what Jiyong was like there, what gave him pleasure and what didn’t. Jiyong was lying very still, his breathing accelerated as Seunghyun explored him.

“One more?” asked Seunghyun eventually. Jiyong nodded, blushing gorgeously, and Seunghyun added another finger.

“Aah!” Jiyong’s moan was too sharp. Seunghyun immediately stopped what he was doing and peered down at him in concern.

“I’m hurting you.”

“It…has been a while,” acknowledged Jiyong grudgingly, biting his full underlip.

“Then-”

“Don’t you dare stop, Tabi!” Jiyong gave him a glare. “I’m so turned on!” Seunghyun gave him a stubborn look in return; there was no way he was going to be responsible for causing his little brother any more pain. “Calm your ass down,” managed Jiyong, and nodded at the gaudy Chrome Hearts bedside cabinet. “There’s lube in the drawer.”

“Why do you-” began Seunghyun.

“Because I knew this would happen,” said Jiyong complacently. “One day. And I wanted to make it as easy for you as possible.”

“For _me_!”

“Just shut up and get it,” Jiyong told him fondly. Seunghyun got off him carefully and made his way across the vast expanse of bed to rummage around in the drawer, which was full of various high-end beauty products. “Companies just give me stuff when I do ad campaigns for them,” Jiyong explained over Seunghyun’s grumbling.

“I can’t imagine why they’d give you this!” Seunghyun commented as he finally located the bottle of lubricant.

“Ha ha.” Jiyong shifted his hips impatiently. “Obviously I got it on Amazon.” He leaned up to give Seunghyun an encouraging, open-mouthed kiss, then made himself comfy again. Seunghyun unwrapped the lube, squirted out a generous helping – it smelled faintly of fruit – and let it warm on his skin before he tried again.

This time Jiyong exhaled shakily but was silent as his brother eased two fingers into him, beginning some slow, shallow pushes to get him used to the sensation. Seunghyun didn’t hurry, despite the boy’s impatient murmurs. Once Jiyong was pushing back against his hand Seunghyun started to fuck him harder, twisting his fingers to open him up. The lube made everything smooth, even with the pads of Seunghyun’s fingers calloused from months of weapons training and manual labour, and at length Jiyong was demanding more.

Seunghyun patted his behind soothingly with his free hand, and began to experiment like he used to; he vaguely remembered where to locate the prostate and how to stimulate it – which Jiyong persisted in referring to as ‘that thing you do’ – but he had spent an awfully long time over the last two years trying not to think about any of the wonderful things he had done with his brother. He knew Jiyong could tell what he was aiming for, and the little breaths of anticipation spilling from his pretty lips were making Seunghyun hard again.

“Keep going, Tabi,” Jiyong ordered, pink in the face and wriggling beneath him to try and help. That looked wonderful, and it was difficult for Seunghyun to maintain his concentration. He gave the boy a quelling slap on the ass. Jiyong moaned – half indignation and half enjoyment – and quit squirming. A minute later Seunghyun let out a triumphant breath as he located the bump inside Jiyong’s passage that made him cry out delightedly and bury his face in the sheets. Seunghyun did it again, pushing just to make sure he’d got it.

“Oh my god,” hissed Jiyong through gritted teeth, and Seunghyun found himself smiling. It was the most satisfying thing in the world to give Jiyong pleasure. He leaned over Jiyong’s back to speak into his ear.

“Are you still set on doing this tonight?” he asked, tugging quickly at Jiyong’s silver earring with his teeth and hooking up against his prostate to hear him moan.

“Mmm!” The smaller boy raised his hips so that the older man’s cock pressed against his thigh. “…If you stop I’m gonna…kick your ass!”

“All right!” replied Seunghyun quickly, his vision blurring for a second from that tantalising contact. Before Jiyong could tease him any more he lubed up again and carefully added a third finger. He was somewhat apprehensive about this: it had taken them a long time to get this far before, and back then Seunghyun had had no intention of going further. But if he wanted to avoid hurting Jiyong he would have to get him as prepared as possible.

“Ohh…” Jiyong’s brows furrowed and his hands balled themselves into fists before slowly relaxing again, but when Seunghyun tried to stop he growled at him cutely to continue. Seunghyun pushed his legs a bit farther apart to make it easier; he was so turned on now that he had to constantly tell himself not to rush the younger boy. They had waited for years; ten more minutes wouldn’t kill them!

“Wait…wait!” came Jiyong’s tremulous voice all of a sudden, and Seunghyun froze. “No more right there,” his brother instructed, “or I’ll come…!” Seunghyun slid one arm around his waist and drew him up to kiss him, chest against the elegant arch of his back; Jiyong was shaking beneath him. “I’m ready,” the boy insisted, slim hand cupping the back of Seunghyun’s neck. “And I _know_ you are…”

“Yes.” Seunghyun closed his eyes and swallowed, then removed his fingers gently and turned Jiyong over to kneel between his legs. Jiyong lay gazing up at him, his lips parted and skin damp with sweat. He looked so ravishing – and ravishable – in that moment, and Seunghyun had to fight to hold himself back. Jiyong smiled at him trustingly; then he patted around the bedcovers until he found the lube. With Seunghyun watching raptly he squeezed some onto his slim fingers, warmed it between his hands and set them lightly to the older man’s cock. Seunghyun groaned softly as Jiyong’s slippery digits stroked him, and took his brother by the hips, tugging him close. At a touch Jiyong spread his legs wider.

“You’re sure,” muttered Seunghyun, one more time. He nudged himself against Jiyong’s entrance, and they both caught their breath. Jiyong looked at him pleadingly, and then Seunghyun couldn’t restrain himself any longer. Biting his own lip now he slowly and carefully began to push his way inside.

He was so tight! Even after their careful preparations Seunghyun was afraid for him, while at the same time it was the most acutely erotic sensation he had ever experienced. Jiyong had stopped breathing and was clutching at the pillow above his head; his fine jaw was clenched and his wide eyes fixed on Seunghyun’s face.

“Tabi!” gasped Jiyong, his voice high and vulnerable, “slowly…!”

“I know, baby,” replied Seunghyun worshipfully, pausing to kiss the nearest part of his brother he could reach – his knee – before inching further into him. He stopped when it seemed as if Jiyong was feeling overwhelmed and knelt there, clasping the boy’s thighs securely in his arms. Jiyong’s toned stomach was quivering as he focused on breathing steadily. “Are you all right?” asked Seunghyun.

“Yeah…I…just keep looking at me,” whispered Jiyong. Seunghyun nodded. “I’m glad it was tonight,” Jiyong confided, once he had settled down a bit. “It was getting…embarrassing, being a heartthrob _and_ a virgin…!”

“I love you,” said Seunghyun simply, unable to reply with any kind of banter; the enormity of what he was taking from Jiyong struck him again. But there was no going back now. Jiyong gave him a faint version of his cheeky grin and reached up to touch his chest.

“Come on, then.” He slid his hand up to cup Seunghyun’s face. “I told you to show me…so show me.”

So Seunghyun did. It was the hardest thing in the world to go slowly, when all his body was telling him was to thrust into that tight heat, that it would be the best thing he had ever felt! But he forced himself to make small, shallow movements, allowing Jiyong to get used to the shape and size of him. Jiyong was making uncertain little noises, lips pressed together like he wasn’t sure if he was scared or delighted; he had pulled Seunghyun closer to grip his shoulders for security. As Seunghyun watched he tipped his head back and moaned, doing his best to move in rhythm with the bigger man.

“…You’re so good,” breathed Seunghyun, meaning it. He pushed deeper and Jiyong cried out. “You’re the most…beautiful thing…I ever saw!” Jiyong let out a strained laugh at that and drew him down to kiss him untidily. Seunghyun knew his brother loved to be praised for his looks, and Jiyong knew that he knew; it didn’t seem to lessen the impact. So Seunghyun kept it up, a soft litany of admiration in Jiyong’s ear as they made love, until the boy was purring again. Seunghyun touched him, too; it was difficult when he was being so careful of his own movements, but he managed to find a rhythm that would keep Jiyong hard. He thought Jiyong probably wouldn’t be able to come like this – the expression on his small face was too complicated, the sensations too strange – but Seunghyun could at least make sure he felt the potential for pleasure.

“You don’t have to…hold back for me,” muttered Jiyong after a while. “I’m not gonna break!”

“I just want you to feel good,” Seunghyun told him breathlessly. Jiyong shot him a glazed, challenging look.

“…And I want you to come!” he panted. “I wanna know…that I made _you_ feel that good.” He tightened his legs around Seunghyun’s hips, dragging him closer, and half sat up to grasp the older man’s buttocks. Really, thought Seunghyun dopily, Jiyong was stronger than he looked. He took one more gauging glance at his determined face and sped up, pushing Jiyong back down and raising his hips higher. Jiyong gasped as the angle changed, his hands returning to Seunghyun’s shoulders; Seunghyun could feel the fingernails digging into his scapula as he sank deeper into him. It felt insane to be this connected to Jiyong – as though their physical intimacy had finally caught up with their entangled hearts. The boy’s insides were hot and slick, gripping him tight as Seunghyun began to fuck him properly.

Jiyong let out a triumphant, apprehensive laugh, responding to whatever it was he saw on Seunghyun’s face. Then he dropped his head back and allowed himself to cry out as loud as he felt like. Seunghyun set his teeth and pushed into him harder; every single thing about Jiyong seemed calculated to drive him mad, and he was getting so _close_. As he felt the electric wave of pleasure rise he abandoned himself to his impulses, his hands possessively tight on his brother’s hips and his pelvis striking Jiyong’s perfect ass in a rapid series of thrusts. Then his orgasm hit and he yelled embarrassingly loud, still moving haphazardly as he came inside the smaller boy.

When Seunghyun’s consciousness resurfaced he saw Jiyong was hitching in rapid breaths, sweat beading on his smooth forehead. His cool hairstyle was completely wrecked and there was water standing in his wide eyes.

“Don’t,” said Jiyong faintly as Seunghyun caught himself in horror – he had gone too far! – and began to pull out. Jiyong set a shaking hand on Seunghyun’s wrist. “Stay just like that…touch me!”

“Anything you want,” promised Seunghyun. “I’ll give you _anything you want_.” He took some deep breaths – he was feeling lightheaded – and curled his right hand around Jiyong’s semi-erect cock. Jiyong sighed happily, reaching for Seunghyun’s free hand and clasping it tight. He held onto him with a vice-like grip as the older man brought him to orgasm, still inside him. Jiyong came with a cry of relief and lay there panting as his tense muscles began to relax. Seunghyun kissed him with a devotion he wasn’t sure he could fully express.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seunghyun said worriedly, once he had disengaged himself with care and was lying beside Jiyong, their fingers still twined together. Jiyong shifted experimentally, and winced.

“It’s fine,” he said. When Seunghyun looked across at him, unconvinced, he saw the smaller boy break into a wide, lazy smile, his white teeth gleaming. “I like getting what I want,” added Jiyong, sounding deeply satisfied. “And I wanted you. And I’m gonna want you again once I can walk…”

“You should have told me,” Seunghyun reproached him. He rolled onto his side and cupped Jiyong’s hot cheek in one hand. Jiyong kissed his palm.

“If I’d wanted to, I would have. But I was enjoying you too much.” Seunghyun shook his head in amazement. His brother was really beyond belief, in all sorts of ways.

“Do you want a drink?” he asked solicitously. Jiyong made a dismissive gesture, still playing with Seunghyun’s fingers. “How about a bath?”

“Hmm.” Jiyong took a look at the state of himself. “Yeah, better had.” He reluctantly let Seunghyun go. “It’s past the dressing room,” he called, once Seunghyun had got himself lost. “There, on the left!”

Seunghyun located the bathroom, which was nice enough – there wasn’t much Jiyong could do to make a rental bathroom as tacky as he’d made his bedroom, thought Seunghyun fondly. He set the big bath running, which gave him a pleasant flashback to those stolen hours spent splashing and experimenting in the family house that first summer. Then he went to collect his brother.

“I can’t walk,” Jiyong announced, still lolling naked and sticky on the bed. “Help me, Tabi.”

“You just want to be carried,” said Seunghyun, half amused and half guilty as he picked Jiyong up in his arms.

“Yeah,” replied Jiyong, looking smug, though Seunghyun caught the faint frown of discomfort as he shifted him higher. “Seeing as you got so buff and all. Might as well take advantage!”

Seunghyun placed him gently in the warm water. Jiyong caught his breath, and Seunghyun knew he must be sore. The older man obediently brought over the many pampering products Jiyong demanded, then got in behind him and proceeded to wash him minutely. Jiyong relaxed and eventually turned drowsy as Seunghyun rubbed shampoo into his hair, massaging his head until his brother was heavy and sleepy against him.

“You’re perfect,” whispered Seunghyun, and Jiyong made an approving noise. When the water started to cool he got him out and dried him off with one of the big, soft towels – Jiyong had decided he could stand up by this point – then put down more towels on the bed when Jiyong confessed he had no idea where the clean sheets were kept.

“I have a cleaner,” said Jiyong, climbing stiffly into bed. “Ow.”

“She’ll be delighted when she sees the state of this lot.” Jiyong gave Seunghyun a complacent smile and accepted a glass of water. Seunghyun got in beside him; honestly, there was room for at least three more people. Jiyong set his hand on Seunghyun’s chest and lay there watching him, fingers tracing random patterns on his skin.

“Regrets?” asked Seunghyun quietly.

“From me?” Jiyong kissed his shoulder. “Hardly.”

“All right.”

 

“…Can I tell you something?” said Jiyong, just as Seunghyun was drifting off. Seunghyun struggled back to wakefulness and turned to face him.

“Course.” Jiyong leaned up on his elbows, his beautiful little face worried. “What?”

“I think…I might be gay.” The boy swallowed. “Do you mind?” Seunghyun blinked, then raised one hand to stroke the hair at the nape of Jiyong’s neck.

“Bit of a minor point compared to incest,” he ventured cautiously. It was the first time either of them had named what they were doing aloud.

“Yes, but…” Jiyong bit his lip in a way that Seunghyun had been missing for two solid years. “I think it’s different for you. I know you love me,” he said quickly, when Seunghyun opened his mouth. “But I know you like girls. Me, though…I haven’t looked at a woman and _wanted_ her since the day I first kissed you.”

“Whoever kissed whoever,” said Seunghyun, who still wasn’t convinced Jiyong had started it. “And your song lyrics sure sound like you’re straight!”

“Just listen, Tabi.” Jiyong leaned his forearm on Seunghyun’s chest. “This is very hard to say. You asked me earlier if there’s ever been anyone else in this bed. Well, there hasn’t!” he exclaimed, as Seunghyun raised an eyebrow at him. “But…there were times when I wanted there to be. Times when I looked at guys and…I don’t know, maybe they just reminded me of you. But they attracted me. Physically.”

“Oh!” Seunghyun thought about this, or tried to, through the jealous niggle he was suddenly experiencing. It was true: he still found women attractive, and if it wasn’t for his military service and the all-encompassing presence of Jiyong in his life he supposed he would still be sleeping with them. So his brother liked men, or thought he did. Did it matter? Jiyong was looking at him anxiously.

“It _doesn’t_ matter,” said Seunghyun out loud. “If it wasn’t for us…perhaps you would have to worry, with your job and all. But our secret is already so big…it’s like this shouldn’t even faze us.”

“But does it?” pressed Jiyong. “I’m not talking about secrets, Tabi, I’m talking about you. Do _you_ mind?”

“No,” said Seunghyun decisively, and saw Jiyong’s shoulders relax. “Whatever you are, whatever you do, you’re my brother and I love you. And if this makes it less likely that you’ll run off and marry some actress while my back’s turned…well, how could I mind?”

“You idiot,” said Jiyong happily, and kissed him. Seunghyun pulled him closer eagerly; gay, straight, pansexual, Jiyong was the most alluring creature in the world. He thought that maybe he could go another round, if Jiyong was up to it. Then Jiyong yawned, so Seunghyun shoved his libido back down and wrapped him up in his arms instead. After a while Jiyong started snoring. And that was perfect too.

 

* * *

 

 

The next morning Jiyong was awake, showered and shaved before Seunghyun began stirring. He was aching rather a lot, but he didn’t mind because it was a tangible reminder of how close they had finally become. He got back into bed; if it was up to him they would never leave it, and he was going to make the most of the two hours he had left before work.

Seunghyun was sleeping with his mouth open. It made him look younger, thought Jiyong, like the teenager he had been when they last met. Jiyong supposed the military had been pretty tough for his scholarly sibling, although some of the stories he’d told last night had been hilarious. In the morning light Seunghyun’s beauty was stunning, but he still looked tired; he probably hadn’t had a decent rest since he’d left base. Jiyong smiled to himself. It was the first time he had ever been allowed to wake up next to his brother without being hurried back to his own room in the small hours of the morning; he resolved to make sure that from now on it would happen as many days of the week as possible. Officially he was still supposed to be living in the YG dorms, but since he had gotten popular he’d been given more wiggle room, and Seunghyun was well worth getting scolded for.

“Mm.” Seunghyun opened his eyes, blinked, then fixed them on Jiyong. His eyelashes were so long! Jiyong reached out and touched them with the tip of his finger, then curled his hand into Seunghyun’s as the older man reached up to make him quit.

“Morning,” said Jiyong, settling closer to him. “I was gonna wake you up, but you looked like Sleeping Beauty.” Seunghyun looked irritated at the comparison, then sighed.

“I was awake half the night,” he confessed. He gave Jiyong a look that made the younger boy’s smile drop off his face.

“If you say you’re having second thoughts I’m gonna punch you!” Jiyong exclaimed, to hide his genuine dismay. “I won’t let you go again, Tabi.”

“No,” said Seunghyun quietly, observing his little brother’s face. He kissed Jiyong’s fingers. “We shouldn’t have done it, but it’s too late. I know for sure, now: I can’t give you up. I’m too selfish, and you make me too happy.”

“What is it, then?” demanded Jiyong, melting slightly at Seunghyun’s over-modest declaration. “What could keep you up all night after _that_?”

“I was just coming to terms with something.” Seunghyun’s handsome mouth thinned, but he kept looking steadily at Jiyong.

“What?”

“That we’re going to Hell,” said Seunghyun calmly. “You know that, right?” Jiyong stared back at him. He knew Seunghyun’s mother was religious – well, their father was too, and they’d both picked it up from him – but unless Seunghyun was just hedging his bets, this was one area in which Jiyong clearly didn’t know his brother very well.

“…Yeah,” he agreed, after turning it over in his mind for a while. Seunghyun sighed again. “I guess so. I mean, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me; we’re not doing any harm to anyone, I just love you! But…rules are rules, right? And we’re breaking some big ones.”

“Yes.” Seunghyun pulled him close, and as always Jiyong felt happy and safe in the older man’s arms. It was strange to him that any halfway-decent god would consider that wrong, but there it was. “I’ll do my best to protect you,” Seunghyun told him in a low voice. “Always. I just…want you to know what you’re choosing if you choose to be with me.” Jiyong’s expression cleared.

“I’m not _choosing_ ,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against Seunghyun’s chest. He could hear Seunghyun’s heartbeat beneath his ear. “I can’t help it. Can you?”

“No,” Seunghyun acknowledged hoarsely.

“Then there’s no point discussing it.” Jiyong sighed philosophically. “What will be will be!”

“Thank you, O wise master!” said Seunghyun. Then he laughed, not entirely comfortably, but Jiyong was glad to hear it. “All right. You know what you’re doing. I suppose you always have.”

“Better than you, anyway.”

“True.” Seunghyun pulled him up until Jiyong was leaning over him. “Kiss me before you go, huh?”

Jiyong did more than that, and still made it to the studio on time. He greeted his colleagues smugly. This was absolutely going to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends Book 1 of this saga! Phew... I need to do a bit of fiddling before I start uploading Book 2, but it should be some time next week; so brace for jealousy, unhappiness, and people attempting to be sensible and failing miserably. Oh, and of course some fluff :)
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who's read and/or left comments so far. It's been so encouraging to hear what you think!


	10. BOOK 2: Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong technically becomes an adult, and helps Seunghyun get his career in line. In return Seunghyun learns something new.  
> (High on careers and family issues, low on sex...)

For Seunghyun the following year was a whirlwind of apprehension and happiness. Sometimes he thought he had been hit in the head back in the Army and this was all an elaborate fantasy; it was simply too unlikely to be real.

He went back to his studies, and found them as enjoyable as ever. The only difference was that he spent barely any time in his dorm room; whenever Jiyong was in Seoul Seunghyun would of course be in his apartment, in his bed, and even when Jiyong was on tour or filming around the country the younger man wanted to know his brother was there. Seunghyun took the opportunity to fiddle with the décor. Jiyong might be an up-and-coming fashionista, he reasoned, but his apartment looked like Joseph Conran had had a love child with a brothel. Jiyong just shrugged and gave Seunghyun one of his credit cards.

Seunghyun was further entertained by his brother’s dismay when Jiyong learned that if he wanted to pursue his idol career he would have to go to university too. You had to, explained his managers, to put off your military service until the optimum time. Many of Jiyong’s seniors, Hoang told him sadistically, were even doing Master’s courses. Seunghyun knew that the younger man, though plenty intelligent, had found high school a chore; a college degree was the last thing Jiyong fancied.

“No-one’s asking you to major in Neuroscience,” Seunghyun pointed out, rubbing Jiyong’s temples soothingly as he scrolled through university websites. “It can be any subject.”

“All very well for you to say.” Jiyong groaned. “Like I don’t have enough to do!”

“Well, do something useful,” suggested Seunghyun.

So Jiyong embarked on a part-time course in Sound Engineering, doing most of his work remotely. Occasionally he turned up on campus and caused a sensation.

“They wouldn’t envy me so much if they saw my theory grades,” Jiyong said, half doleful and half amused; his hand ached from signing textbooks for undergraduate girls. Still, he kept at it, and let Seunghyun help him with the written assignments and revision. Seunghyun was pleased to find that his brother had such staying power, and rewarded him liberally.

Their father approved of Seunghyun’s mature, calming influence on his younger sibling – he had no idea how much time Seunghyun spent making Jiyong crack up with his dumb jokes. Seunghyun knew the older man was still perplexed by Jiyong’s rise to fame, though he had given up disapproving of the changing kaleidoscope of hair colours and the tattoos that crept their way along Jiyong’s slender limbs and torso.

Seunghyun was far less convinced of his impact on his brother. If anything, Jiyong was changing _him_ ; he was so enraptured by the smaller boy, and after years of treating him like crap Seunghyun was very inclined to spoil him now. He allowed Jiyong to drag him out to VIP sections in clubs, peculiar new restaurants, fashion shows, whatever he liked. Not being able to say no to Jiyong had got Seunghyun into some sticky situations, but not enough to make them behave sensibly.

Jiyong was still very young, still enamoured with becoming a celebrity. And sometimes, thought Seunghyun, as they rode home in the back of a taxi from a night out clubbing, he could be terribly, awfully, deliciously immature.

“If we were in a limo,” whispered Jiyong across the space between them, “I’d make the driver put the screen up, and I’d get on my knees and suck you off right here.” In a second Seunghyun had a hard-on.

“Stop it,” he muttered, folding his jacket across his lap. Jiyong looked out of the window at the cityscape, an impish smile spreading across his face.

When they got back to his apartment – Seunghyun walking rather stiffly to the lift and glaring at his brother the whole time – Jiyong pushed him into a chair, put his iPod through the speakers, and then danced for him the way the girls in the club had been. Seunghyun was erect and no longer hiding it; he had spent half the night jealous of the women pressing themselves against the younger man, and it was only right that Jiyong pass the favour along.

“You like looking at me, huh.” Jiyong smirked at him and sank into his lap, hips grinding rhythmically against him. Seunghyun grabbed his ass and helped him move.

“What the fuck do you think?”

“I can’t help it if women want to seduce me,” murmured Jiyong in his ear. “I’m a _star_.” He slid his palm over Seunghyun’s erection. “…And I like making you jealous.”

“Why?” managed Seunghyun, snapping at his earlobe in return.

“…Because of how you’re gonna make me pay.”

Seunghyun inhaled sharply, took a hard grip on his ass and threw him down on the bright red carpet. He pinned Jiyong’s wrists above his head and watched his brother wriggle and pout beneath him. Oh, yes. Seunghyun liked to make him pay.

“Like this?” he said in his deepest tone to see Jiyong shiver, ripping open the smaller boy’s jeans and pushing his legs apart. Jiyong gave him that bloody cheeky smile again and blew him a kiss. “I don’t care how famous you are, Boyband,” Seunghyun threatened. “You’re an awful brat and I oughta put you over my knee for pulling that shit in the cab.”

“I’d like to see you try!”

So Seunghyun did, and they both had a fantastic time. Yes, he thought he could cope with a bit of immaturity now and then.

 

Being together wasn’t always easy. Jiyong’s schedule was hectic. He complained about it all the time – that YG was a slave-driver – but Seunghyun soon found that Jiyong had formed a habit of pushing himself to new levels of effort. That was fine when it was creative or academic; Seunghyun respected that, and was happy to see his brother’s skills flourishing. It was when Jiyong completely wore himself out to please other people that he had reservations.

“I am _wiped out_ ,” announced Jiyong, collapsing limply on the sofa with his head in Seunghyun’s lap. “That dumb game show, I’ve been up to my eyes in mud for bloody hours!!”

“Mud has many health benefits. Apparently.”

“Not this mud,” replied Jiyong grumpily.

“Does that mean I’m not getting any tonight?”

“Damn right,” said Jiyong. He rudely pushed the homework off Seunghyun’s knees to make more room for himself, and nuzzled his cheek against the older man’s thigh. “What, you’re learning Spanish now?” he demanded, pulling out a crumpled worksheet from under his head.

“It’s Latin, dummy. I need it for law stuff.” Seunghyun retrieved it and whisked it away to safety. “I already speak Spanish.”

“Teacher’s pet.” Seunghyun smirked and began to stroke his red hair.

“You’ve still got mud in your ear,” he pointed out.

“Ohh.” Jiyong hated to be dirty, Seunghyun knew; he was like a cat that way. “Get it out, Tabi!” Seunghyun rubbed his fingertip gently around the shell of his brother’s ear until the trace of dried mud disappeared and left his skin clean and pink. He bent down to kiss the place where it had been, and Jiyong practically purred in contentment.

“Feel better?”

“Mmm. Feels good.” Jiyong yawned, and Seunghyun resigned himself to a night of self-gratification. At times like this he wished Jiyong was slightly more of a slacker.

 

Jiyong wasn’t the only one whose schedule put a crimp in their love life. Seunghyun was building a reputation as an exceptional student; he had been offered internships at a variety of specialist law firms, and was invited to join international debate and language contests around the country.

“Baby,” said Seunghyun cautiously, “when are you guys starting your Asian tour?”

“Two months’ time,” replied Jiyong, giving him a proud grin. It was the first time he and Youngbae had been booked to hold their own full concerts abroad, and the younger man was very full of himself over it. Seunghyun found that cute, in a pop star, although he knew he would miss him badly.

“That’s good.” Seunghyun leaned across Jiyong to grab another choco pie; his brother had developed a taste for the cookies when he was a starving trainee, and would hog every last one to himself if he had the chance. “I’ll be away too.”

“Where are you going?” asked Jiyong, suddenly looking anxious. “How long for?”

“Take it easy,” said Seunghyun, puzzled. “To Tokyo. It’s only for a week; speech contest. Might even be when you’re there.”

“Ahh.” Jiyong sighed.

“What is it?” the older man inquired; he didn’t know why Jiyong was so worried. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t constantly jetting off around Korea himself. Jiyong looked awkward.

“…I may have some abandonment issues.” He scowled at Seunghyun. “And is it any wonder?! Your track record for leaving me is pretty spectacular.”

Seunghyun managed to soothe him with the prospect of all the clubs and shopping he’d be able to do in Tokyo and Hong Kong. He felt guilty, though; he hadn’t realised Jiyong still fretted over the times Seunghyun had uselessly tried to put some distance between them. He wondered how he could make it up to him.

“I might have an idea,” said Jiyong that night in bed. Seunghyun had spent a long time giving him the best, most drawn-out blowjob his ingenuity could devise – not that it was any hardship to do it – and now the younger man was lying with his arms folded across Seunghyun’s chest and looking lazily down at him, wearing nothing but a smile that spelled trouble.

“Say what?”

“…You remember the day you came back?” enquired Jiyong, as if Seunghyun could possibly forget. “When you came to the studio and met the girls?”

“Yeah. You let them dress me up like a Ken doll.” Seunghyun gave him a look.

“Well,” said his brother, walking his toes up Seunghyun’s calf, “you remember they were all taking pictures of us?”

“Only ‘cos you were doing your cutesy-idol routine!”

“I _am_ cute,” Jiyong reminded him complacently. “But not as cute as you, apparently!” He pinched Seunghyun’s cheek.

“Huh?” The smaller man calmed down.

“One of the Wardrobe girls showed the pic to a designer friend of hers.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m _famous_ , duh.” Seunghyun gave his hair a tug. “Ow! Anyway,” continued Jiyong, “that designer didn’t give a crap about me. He was interested in _you_.”

“I don’t need another boyfriend, thanks,” said Seunghyun teasingly. Jiyong sighed as if he was being totally immature.

“I’m doing you a favour here, Tabi. That guy works for Bean Pole. He gave your photo to one of their campaign managers, and they want to book you!”

“For what?” asked Seunghyun stupidly.

“As a _model_. They contacted Hoang and he asked me to tell you.” Jiyong sighed. “They want you for their new spring line. Not catwalk, obviously, just the photoshoot.”

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve…I’m the least photogenic person ever!”

“Yeah,” agreed Jiyong, swatting his cheek playfully, “in front of the camera. You always look like you’re about to get hit by a car. But somehow the results are… _mmm_.” Seunghyun gave him a raised eyebrow. “Spectacular,” Jiyong clarified. “Even our selfies make me wanna eat you up.”

“I’m not going to be a model,” said Seunghyun stubbornly. The idea of having people dress him and undress him and stand him in front of lights and photograph him gave him a tension headache just thinking about it. “I’m a student!”

“All students do part-time jobs.”

“No.”

“They’d pay you quite a lot,” added Jiyong, with a cunning grin. “I’ve modelled for Bean Pole before, they treat you pretty well.”

“No. And you’re a star, of course they do!”

“Tabi,” said Jiyong persuasively, his finger running lightly back and forth across Seunghyun’s collar-bone. The older man was immediately suspicious. “…If you did it, I could have a really nice picture of you to take on tour.” Seunghyun looked at him, incredulous; as if he would fall for that! “At night,” continued Jiyong, his voice dropping to a murmur and his pink tongue peeking out to flick across his top lip, “it’d be a really big help, you know? In a foreign country, alone in my hotel room. I could look at you and…” He shifted to brush his mouth over Seunghyun’s, the barest touch that made the bigger man instantly excited. “… _Enjoy_ myself.”

“No!”

“No?” repeated Jiyong in a sad little voice. Seunghyun felt his brother pout against his lips, then fingers trailing down his stomach.

“You are so bad…!”

“So you’ll do it?” Jiyong kissed him properly then, his clever tongue pressing into Seunghyun’s mouth. Seunghyun grasped him by the hair and returned it ravenously. He came up for air.

“…All right, goddammit! Yes.”

 

* * *

 

 

In the end it wasn’t so bad. Seunghyun didn’t much care for the boredom of it, or being told what to do. He was sure the photographer and art director were perfectly nice people with whom he would be happy to have a conversation about design; but when they were telling him off ten times a minute for being too stiff or pulling weird faces, their company tended to pall.

Once the photographer’s assistant pulled up the first set of pictures on the monitor, though, they calmed down. The director shot Seunghyun a startled look, as if he was some kind of idiot savant, and the photoshoot resumed with much less nagging.

When Jiyong saw the preview pictures he hummed with approval and saved them all to his phone; and if Jiyong was happy Seunghyun was happy. He supposed he did look pretty good, though he didn’t fancy the comments he would get later this year if any of his classmates saw them.

Seunghyun got paid and was even happier. He didn’t know if being G-Dragon’s brother had taken him up a few pay grades, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. And as it had been a totally frivolous activity, Seunghyun decided to spend the money on something equally frivolous, something he was fascinated by but had always been too broke or sensible to try: the stock market.

Since before his military service Seunghyun had been following the cutthroat world of finance like you would a strange, alien culture; one of his work experience bosses was into it and made enough money that it was more than a hobby. She had liked to teach Seunghyun about it over lunches out – he suspected that to her he was just intelligent jailbait arm candy, but he had learned quite a lot. He’d never had any spare cash to speak of, but thanks to the modelling he could now dip in. He didn’t much mind if he was successful; he was just drawn by the gamble.

Political instability and the possibility of corporate scandal made playing the KSC rather like a rollercoaster ride. Seunghyun spent some nights doing research, then invested half the money in a nice safe option that should make him a modest profit a few years down the line, and the other half in a high-risk venture that could go absolutely any way at all.

“ _Please_ stop telling me about it,” begged Jiyong, frazzled from finishing his tour and being sent straight into the studio to begin their new album.

“You should add a stockbroker to your financial advisors,” Seunghyun told him enthusiastically. Jiyong flopped down on his back on the rug and played dead. “Seriously,” said Seunghyun. He had no idea how much Jiyong made, but it must be a hell of a lot now he had started writing and producing most of their songs, and barring any major disasters he’d be stinking rich one day. He ought to put some of that to good use. “It’s really exciting!” A loud snore from the vicinity of the carpet. “Okay, okay,” allowed Seunghyun. After all, it probably wouldn’t go anywhere.

But, as it turned out, an instinct for the market became another of Seunghyun’s talents. He took most of his skills for granted, but this one made him as internally gleeful as a kid. It _was_ exciting; and not only that, he was making money! At first this was simply useful; it meant Seunghyun could pay for himself when Jiyong took him to fancy restaurants and ordered ridiculous drinks at clubs. Not that he had begrudged his little brother paying – Jiyong was wealthy by anyone’s standards, let alone a nineteen-year-old. It was just nice to be able to keep up with him.

It didn’t end, though. To his surprise, in the following months Seunghyun was requested for several other modelling jobs by various stores and brands. He refused to do anything that would require moving about in front of real people, but allowed himself to be hired for some photoshoots. Seunghyun thought that half the jobs probably stemmed from the novelty of him being G-Dragon’s sibling; he was sure Jiyong talked him up to all the designers he met, and the younger man was always delighted when he saw the pictures online or in magazines.

Seunghyun even modelled for Polo by Ralph Lauren; to his grave embarrassment the picture ended up three metres high in a store window in Gangnam, and then there was no getting away from his classmates’ teasing. But the money was good, and with his new hobby bearing fruit he was saving quite a lot; he even bought a couple of paintings. He was starting to feel like a real adult.

It was a good year: Seunghyun had good grades, great prospects – he was on track to enter SNU Law School a whole year early – financial independence; and, best of all, he had Jiyong.

 

* * *

 

 

As time passed Seunghyun grew up and got slightly wealthier, enough to stop thinking money was so important. He completed his degree with the top grade and went on to postgraduate training. Jiyong grew up too, in the sense that he became even more famous, acquired more tattoos, and got astronomically richer. Seunghyun had long since given up worrying about the gap between their expectations; he was doing well for someone his age, and Jiyong couldn’t have cared less whether his brother lived in a penthouse or a tent as long as Seunghyun belonged to him. Besides, Seunghyun didn’t have time for any of that now: in six months he would take his finals and become a fully accredited lawyer.

In terms of career, at least, Seunghyun had always been clear about his life path, in spite of Jiyong’s laments that he hadn’t chosen to become a model or a rapper like him. It had been his intention for many years to join his father’s firm in corporate law, and make him proud enough that he’d eventually make Seunghyun a partner. Jiyong approved of pleasing their dad, but the rest of it put him to sleep.

“It’s just kind of boring, isn’t it?” he said, over the sound of Seoul’s brightest DJ and the festive noises of the supermodel’s birthday party in the booth behind them.

“Because my life needs any more excitement!” shouted back Seunghyun sarcastically. Really, the danger and magic of being with Jiyong was all the adrenaline rush he wanted. Jiyong knocked back his ‘healthy’ collagen cocktail and fixed him with a wide-eyed, very serious gaze; he was drunk, so this unfortunately gave him the appearance of an extremely good-looking owl. The large group of friends clustered around him followed suit, and Seunghyun found himself the centre of attention. He squirmed uncomfortably.

“But you’re so _amazing_ , Tabi,” Jiyong proclaimed solemnly. “Shouldn’t you do something more…special than help Hyundai and Daewoo argue over patent rights? Huh?”

“It’s not gonna be easy, working for Dad!”

“That’s true,” said Jiyong, with the slightest hint of jealousy; the old story: Seunghyun knew they’d never get over chasing their father’s approval. “But you’ll make a formidable team.”

Seunghyun was of the same opinion. Right up to the day Jiyong went on a talk show and changed the course of his career forever.

 

It had been a long week: Seunghyun not only had finals looming in the months ahead, he had volunteered to present at a graduate symposium in Busan. He was there now, lolling dozily on his hotel bed and trying to keep his eyes open until Jiyong’s show came on; he had declined going for drinks with the other presenters and professors – there was no way he’d miss the chance to see his brother when they were this far apart.

Jiyong came on looking perfect, with applause from all the MCs. Seunghyun toasted him tipsily with a glass of room service beer. The show began: the usual banal but somehow entertaining questions about Jiyong and Youngbae’s new single, other celebrities they knew, getting big in Japan and having to perform in another language – Seunghyun knew for a fact that his brother’s Japanese sucked, but when he sang you couldn’t really tell. Jiyong behaved as he always did on TV: pert and cheeky but with a charming hint of shyness that allowed the presenters’ professional wit to come through. It was very clever, thought Seunghyun, and contrasted nicely with Youngbae’s quiet straightforward talk.

Seunghyun had almost stopped listening and was just watching Jiyong’s figure on the screen when the presenters switched topic.

“We see a lot of photos of you around town with your brother,” said one interviewer, after some standard questions about how the idols spent their time off. Seunghyun pricked up his ears, startled. “He does some modelling too, right?”

“A bit.” Jiyong smiled brightly, showing his white teeth. “He’s pretty in demand, obviously; he’s the good-looking one in our family.”

“That makes you the modest one, does it?” The presenters and Youngbae all laughed at the idea of that, and Jiyong gave a self-deprecating grin.

“He sure is tall, dark and handsome, though,” one of the female interviewers said approvingly. A picture of Seunghyun in the Ralph Lauren store window flashed up in the corner of the screen, and the real Seunghyun grimaced to himself. That bloody photoshoot!

“But he’s too busy to do much,” Jiyong went on. “I’m lucky I get to spend so much time with him.”

“You’re obviously very close.” Seunghyun gulped; Jiyong’s lovely face had lit up. He looked utterly beautiful, and Seunghyun was moved to see his devotion displayed for the whole country; but it just wasn’t safe.

“Yes,” said Jiyong, sobering up. “I respect him more than anyone else in the world; he’s gonna do something amazing one day. He’s my inspiration…I mean, to be a better person.”

“So you two never fight?”

“Constantly,” said Jiyong, and they laughed again.

Seunghyun didn’t hear the rest of the interview. He sat there on his hotel bed, staring at his brother on the TV, both touched and terrified by Jiyong’s frank admission. Seunghyun was his inspiration; made him a _better person_. What had Seunghyun ever done to earn such praise?

Well, admiration could go both ways. And Seunghyun vowed right there that he would _make_ himself worthy of Jiyong.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dad,” said Seunghyun firmly, a few months later, “I’ve decided something.” He poured his father another glass of beer.

“Uh-oh!” His father smiled, but gave him a sharp look. “The last time you told me that you disappeared for two years.”

“I know.” Seunghyun immediately felt guilty: if he’d thought that was bad, this was going to knock him for six. “I’ve done a lot of internships now,” he began. “And I’ve decided, when I get my J.D…” Seunghyun was in no doubt that he would pass the tough postgraduate exam next month. “…I can’t join your firm.”

“What?” His father looked puzzled, but didn’t stop smiling. “You mean you want to do more training first? Trust me, son, you’re perfectly qualified.” Seunghyun didn’t reply, and the smile slowly faded. “Didn’t you always say you wanted us to work together?”

“…Yeah.” Seunghyun swallowed. “I’d love to work with you, Dad. It’s just…not the kind of work I want to do anymore. I think I’ve found my niche. And it isn’t something your firm can offer me.” The older man raised his eyebrows in a way that made Seunghyun cringe inwardly.

“Don’t tell me you want to go into criminal law! You know what that’ll mean: you get prominent in that field and people are going to hate you for getting one verdict, hate you for getting another…it won’t make you happy. You’re a good boy; you don’t want a career that’ll mess your moral centre up.”

“You’re right, Dad.” He wasn’t right, thought Seunghyun darkly; his moral compass had been skewed so far by his affair with Jiyong that such concerns meant nothing to him. “And that’s why I want a job where I know I’ll always be doing the right thing.” Seunghyun took a deep breath. “I want to be a human rights lawyer.” His father looked at him blankly, as if he was speaking another language.

Seunghyun supposed it had come out of left field; it had been one of several areas he’d studied in the past, but he’d never taken it seriously because he just assumed he would become his father’s successor. Since Jiyong had praised him so extravagantly, though, Seunghyun had begun to really think about it. He’d talked to the specialist professors, squeezed in some volunteering at a civil-society organization, and had found the feeling of doing something good for other people to be very satisfying – and not only because he knew it would please Jiyong.

“I’ve applied for a position at the Human Rights Committee,” he informed his father; might as well bite the bullet and get it all out. “They work with the OHCHR. I think it’ll be a good starting position for me, and after that…we’ll see. I might do some more training abroad.”

“Son,” said his father, after several minutes’ busy silence, “…what happened? Did one of your college friends get arrested? Get into some dangerous politics? Did _you_? If it’s something personal, you know I can help you fix it.”

“No, Dad.” Seunghyun frowned. “I mean, it _is_ personal, but it’s more than that. I want to help people. I want to do something…good.”

“You know you sound like an undergrad. Lawyers don’t make successful careers in human rights.”

“That depends what you mean by successful,” said Seunghyun. He had a tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest, and he knew it came from the knowledge of his father’s disapproval. He hated it, but it was time for him to be his own man; and it was Jiyong who had made him see it. “If you mean famous, yeah, you’re probably right, unless I get a major trial or start my own firm. If you mean rich…you’re _definitely_ right. But I’ll be comfortable, and I’ve got my stocks.”

His father shook his head slowly. Seunghyun was sharply aware of his disappointment; he supposed his last statement could be interpreted as an insult to his father’s own way of business. He hadn’t meant it like that, but it was true: much as he’d enjoy being well-known and well-off, Seunghyun knew the only glory he would ever need would come from Jiyong’s approval.

“I’d counted on you.” His father gave him a heavy stare. “You were meant to work with me; to carry on after me.”

“I know,” said Seunghyun quietly. “But I can’t. I know what I have to do. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Well. I suppose that’s what I’ve always raised you to know.” The older man sighed. “I won’t try and stop you. But I will keep trying to persuade you this is a mistake. You’re very young, son,” he continued. “Sometimes I forget that.”

“But I do know what I’m doing. Honestly.”

“You and your brother. Sometimes,” said his father, “I wonder if I know you two at all. Every time I think you have your lives set out you turn round and floor me.”

“We still love you, though, Dad.” They glanced at each other awkwardly, then smiled. Seunghyun still felt awful at the possibility he wasn’t making his father proud; he’d never get over that urge, he realised. But maybe love was enough.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was extravagantly pleased at Seunghyun’s decision. Seunghyun suspected his brother had a very romantic view of what human rights law would entail: him as a kind of knight in shining armour rescuing downtrodden women and minorities from the clutches of…he wasn’t sure what Jiyong thought. Seunghyun himself was aware that, for the first few years at least, the work would be routine and probably quite depressing – there was nothing like witnessing social injustice day after day to turn you a bit sour on humanity. Nevertheless, Jiyong praised him to all and sundry. It made up for their father’s disappointment.

Seunghyun was embarrassed but delighted by Jiyong’s continuing belief that he was someone special. He didn’t really understand it, but it formed a warm glow around him like the one he had always expected from his father’s praise. And now he knew what his brother meant: it made him want to be better than himself.

Jiyong was so proud of him for passing his J.D. exams that he turned up at Seunghyun’s graduation in person, almost causing a riot among the SNU girls. To see Jiyong there with their father in the crowd – a way away from Seunghyun’s mother to preserve diplomatic relations – made Seunghyun’s chest swell and caused him to burst out laughing at the same time. Jiyong had just had a restyle for his and Youngbae’s new video, and catching sight of him amid the besuited parents with a shock of long pink hair down one side of his face and tattoos on his fingers was enough to set Seunghyun grinning as he walked up to collect his diploma. Jiyong was watching him solemnly, and there was his older brother sniggering in his graduation robes like a moron. He loved Jiyong so much, though. He was sure everyone looking at him would see it. Luckily they didn’t, and Seunghyun got off lightly with only a hundred girls or so asking for his pop star sibling’s autograph.

Seunghyun went off to work for the HRC, and found it both perplexing and fulfilling. Perhaps it _was_ making him a better person; he was learning so much about working with marginalised groups, North Korean ‘defectors’ and other disadvantaged communities, and enjoyed long midnight discussions about them with Jiyong in bed. He found himself getting quite enthusiastic, though he hadn’t been given any important cases yet.

The only negative aspects were the continuing feeling that his father – and at a more removed extent his mother – was less than thrilled by his career choice; plus some class guilt about his own privilege. That was pretty severe at first: the luxury in which Jiyong lived, along with Seunghyun’s own burgeoning stock portfolio, caused a constant mental niggle that he was a hypocrite. But his older colleagues assured him that would go away, or that he’d at least learn to live with it and use his advantages in a helpful way.

 

* * *

 

 

When just over a year had passed since his graduation, Seunghyun brought pizza home one night with a determined expression on his face. Jiyong looked up – it was a rarity that he was home at a decent hour, but Seunghyun had insisted – and immediately pursed his lips.

“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” declared Seunghyun.

“Don’t give me that, Tabi. You don’t bring me-” Jiyong peered at the boxes. “-Di Matteo pizza when there’s nothing going on! You wanna stuff me full of carbs so I’m too dozy to argue with you.”

“All right,” said Seunghyun, sitting down under his brother’s accusing glare and already feeling sheepish. “I do have something I wanna talk about. But it’s nothing bad, as such…” Jiyong sighed, opened up the box, and took a bracing mouthful of the Special.

“Go on, then.”

“I want to do another internship,” Seunghyun told him.

“You sure like working for free.” Jiyong still looked wary, but gave him a faint smile of approbation. “So what? Need me to pay for the pizza?”

“Dumbass. You know I’ve got bags of money. No, I’ve applied to work for six months at Lawyers Without Borders. It’s a really important organization; I could do something useful and give my CV a big boost at the same time.” Seunghyun wondered why he bothered selling it so hard – it didn’t matter how good he made it sound, Jiyong was still going to be pissed.

“It sounds really good, Tabi.” The younger man gave him another smile through his mouthful of pizza. “I dunno why you thought I’d be upset!”

“The thing is,” said Seunghyun carefully, “…it’s at their head office.” No reaction. “In New York.”

Jiyong straightened up and stopped eating. Seunghyun was watching him closely, but couldn’t quite figure out what was going on; Jiyong had become skilled at concealing his emotions in public, and now the older man sensed it was being turned on him. He really didn’t like it.

“…What do you think?” he asked gently. Jiyong swallowed, wiped his hands fastidiously, and folded them in his lap.

“You’re leaving me again.” Seunghyun hadn’t expected it: the cold dismay of his brother’s reaction. He’d thought Jiyong might be bothered; but not like this – he had turned quite pale. “How can you, Tabi?” said Jiyong. And then, “…Did I do something wrong?”

“Of course not!” exclaimed Seunghyun, mystified.

“Then you’re just a jerk,” Jiyong concluded. “Okay.”

Seunghyun was thrown by his reaction, and deeply worried. He tugged his chair closer to Jiyong’s; the other man’s lips thinned as Seunghyun set one hand on his arm. He couldn’t understand it: Jiyong had been away more than he was at home the past couple of years, touring and promoting records and filming TV spots. He’d complained, of course, about how he didn’t get to see enough of Seunghyun, that his job was wearing him out. But Seunghyun knew he really liked it – certainly enough that he could swan off around Asia for a month without batting an eyelid or worrying about his big brother. This reaction was almost teenage; it seemed to belong to the old Jiyong, before success and adulthood had made him feel secure in his own worth.

“…Jiyong,” said Seunghyun, a thought having just struck him. “Do you miss your mom ever?”

Jiyong unfroze and shot him a startled look. It was the first time Seunghyun had ever spoken about his mother, since the arguments they had had back when they hated each other.

“I…My mom?” Jiyong furrowed his eyebrows. “Where did _that_ come from?”

Seunghyun kept looking at him, waiting for him to get over his surprise. It had just popped into his head: their conversation from years ago, when Seunghyun had taken his first trip to Tokyo. Jiyong had confessed that he probably had abandonment issues. Seunghyun had assumed he was being sarcastic, or was referring to the older man’s cowardly retreat to the Army. But what if Jiyong had meant it? His mother had died when he was twelve, and he’d been spirited away to a strange house with a new brother who hated his guts. What if Jiyong had meant _that_ , and Seunghyun had just dismissed him?

“…I miss her,” admitted Jiyong uncertainly. “Where are you going with this?” He looked wary again, unsure of what Seunghyun was getting at, and so vulnerable the older man immediately cursed himself for not being more sensitive.

“What do you miss?” Seunghyun took his hand on the sly.

“What do you miss about _yours_?” That was a fair enough jibe, thought Seunghyun, who hardly ever saw his mother these days and was guilty about it. He wondered how Jiyong felt about that: like Seunghyun was wasting the opportunity?

“It’s not the same,” he said, dismissing his own issues. “There must be stuff you miss.”

“That’s the thing,” said Jiyong, his lovely face unhappy. “I can’t remember anymore.” His fingers tightened on Seunghyun’s as if it was a shameful secret. “I mean, I’ve got some pictures of her, and some toys and her schedule book. Some other stuff Dad gave me. But…no-one ever talks about her. I’ve been without her almost half my life…and now it’s starting to _fade_.”

“Don’t you talk about her with Dad?” asked Seunghyun, shocked. Their father wasn’t the most touchy-feely person out there, but you could discuss almost anything with him. Jiyong shrugged.

“When I was a kid. After she… He was unhappy too. But not when I got older; I think he wanted me to put it behind me. You know, for my own good.” Seunghyun stared at him. He couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been.

“If you wanna talk,” he offered, moving closer, “you can tell me about her. It might help you remember – if you want to.” Jiyong flicked a glance at him, a quick, appraising look. Seunghyun could guess what he was thinking: that this man had spent four years of Jiyong’s life showing him in the meanest way just how much he resented his father’s mistress. “I’m not like that anymore, baby,” Seunghyun promised him softly.

“I know,” said Jiyong, but stayed quiet.

“What was she like?” inquired Seunghyun, encouragingly.

“…I don’t know.” Jiyong laughed weakly. “She was my mom. She spoiled me and told me off and picked me up from school. She used to sing me really silly songs, but I can’t remember them.”

“She was pretty, right? I mean, if she was _your_ mom.”

“Oh, yes,” answered Jiyong, for once not picking up the compliment. “Photos don’t lie, at least. And you know Dad…”

“Yup.” Seunghyun refrained from saying that their father, though a great dad, was a total shagger. “What did your mom do?” Jiyong exhaled.

“I don’t know that either. Isn’t that awful?” He shook his head. Seunghyun rubbed his thumb soothingly over his knuckles. “In all my memories she was just a mom. I guess a housewife…well, not _wife_ , right?” He smiled bitterly.

“Don’t think about that,” Seunghyun instructed him quickly. “You were a family.”

“I dunno what she did before me. I don’t know anyone to ask except Dad, and I don’t think he wants to talk about it.”

“You don’t have to answer this,” ventured Seunghyun cautiously, “but…how did she die?”

“Traffic accident, Dad said.” Jiyong sounded calm enough about it, but Seunghyun could see the downward tug at the corners of his mouth. “You know that cliché, ‘got hit by a bus’?” Seunghyun nodded. “Well, it was that.” Jiyong sighed and stared down at his hand in his brother’s. Seunghyun raised it to his lips and kissed it, a familiar ritual he had used to express affection or comfort for years.

“You know she didn’t mean to leave you,” he said earnestly.

“I know that.” Jiyong’s voice was tight. Seunghyun waited until the smaller man met his eyes.

“And neither will I. Not ever,” he declared passionately. Jiyong was watching him intently. “I know I can’t tell you not to be upset or scared,” he continued. “I know it doesn’t work that way. But it’s only for six months, baby. I love you. I’ll always come back for you.”

“…Maybe I can get time to come see you,” said Jiyong reluctantly. Seunghyun nodded; his brother had never been outside Asia, but Seunghyun knew he had a burning desire to visit Manhattan.

“You can visit me as much as you want.” Seunghyun beckoned Jiyong down and gave him a kiss. “Wall-to-wall shopping and clubs, I promise.”

“What choice do we have? I’m not gonna get in the way of your career, Tabi. I told you years ago: I want you to be a success and be happy. You’ve watched me do whatever the hell I like since I was eighteen. I guess it’s your turn now.” Jiyong closed his mouth and tried to look resigned.

“Well, never mind that,” said Seunghyun. “Tell me more about you and your mom.”

Jiyong smiled at him then, and the sweetness of it was enough to make Seunghyun himself regret he was going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we plunge into Book 2! It will at least start off lighthearted...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family drama and jealousy.

Later, Seunghyun nicknamed his stay abroad and the two years that came after it the Jealousy Era. It was pretty accurate, by and large.

Seunghyun went to New York and was glad he had, though in the lonely night hours he sometimes regretted it. It wasn’t only Jiyong’s body he missed; it was everything. He was afraid his colleagues at Lawyers Without Borders found him a bit shy and antisocial, what with him disappearing at odd moments when they went out together. Seunghyun was taking every opportunity to speak to Jiyong, of course, to message him and Skype with him when he could. He knew his brother was making a sincere effort to open up his crazy schedule to find time for him – anything to hear his voice, see his face.

Of course, Seunghyun found the work interesting and the people intelligent. For his own good he made himself spend more time with them, once the first flush of homesickness had worn off. New York was a beautiful city, and Seunghyun had snagged a slightly run-down but attractive apartment in a 1920s building that still had a lot of its original features.

“Check it out,” said Seunghyun to Jiyong one Sunday, giving him a video tour of the living room. He had done some minimal restoration on it with the landlord’s permission, and was rightly proud of how he had injected the period features with modern freshness.

“It looks really good,” said Jiyong admiringly. “That fireplace is, like, fierce.”

“Right?” Seunghyun turned his iPad back round so he could see his brother’s face. It must be Jiyong’s day off – he was in a baggy tshirt and sweatpants, his red hair unstyled and his beautiful face clean and sleepy. “Sara was telling me they used this building in some movie once. She helped me choose the right kind of lamps.”

“Who’s Sara?!” demanded Jiyong, immediately looking suspicious.

“A colleague.”

“A colleague you have round to comment on your décor.”

Seunghyun fought to stop himself smiling; he knew Jiyong was jealous. The younger man had been acting that way for a while now, especially because Seunghyun had failed to send any photos of his workmates. Seunghyun hadn’t bothered explaining that he only put up with being photographed when he was with people he cared about deeply or if he was being paid. But it seemed his brother was ascribing it a more sinister motive: that Seunghyun must be hiding a dozen modelesque interns from him. It was very cute.

“We’re just friends.”

“She asked you out, didn’t she,” Jiyong challenged him. “I bet all your female ‘colleagues’ are inviting you for private meetings after work!”

“…A few,” Seunghyun acknowledged. He knew Jiyong was lonely – he himself was lonely for his brother like he hadn’t been since the Army, enough that it gave him odd pangs of anxiety at the most random moments – but the teasing was maybe good for him.

“You are such a floozy!” Seunghyun had to grin then.

“Oh yeah?” Seunghyun folded his arms. “I oughta be concerned about _you_ , all by yourself with those dirty showbiz types every day.”

“Luckily,” said Jiyong in a cross voice, “I can control myself.”

“Why would you need to control yourself?”

“You’re not the only one to have people hitting on him from all directions,” Jiyong informed him huffily. “I can’t even count the number of guys – and women, _hot_ women! – who’ve offered to blow me since you’ve been gone!” Seunghyun scowled at him through the screen; that was something he did _not_ need to hear.

“Try.”

“…Eight!” said Jiyong proudly, as if it was a competition. Seunghyun felt the spark of jealousy himself at that, and suspected his brother had informed him on purpose. “But _I_ told them all no!”

“Having someone over for working drinks is not the same as getting your dick sucked!” exclaimed Seunghyun.

“Well,” countered Jiyong, “I don’t like the idea of either. So keep your charms to yourself ‘til I get there and relieve you.”

“When’s that gonna be?” Seunghyun stopped being annoyed; he wanted to see Jiyong so much. Skype was nowhere near enough. Sure, he enjoyed his friends and colleagues here, but they were nothing, _nothing_ to Jiyong. He told his brother this, and Jiyong gave him a longing glance.

“Soon, I hope. I’m gonna get right on it now I know you’re flirting with every sexy female lawyer in New York!”

“Shut up,” said Seunghyun. “Take your clothes off, baby. Show me what I’m missing.”

“Cheese.” Jiyong smiled wickedly even so, and flicked open the buttons at his collar. “Watch me, Tabi. This is what you’re gonna get if you’re patient. All of this. Just for you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong called America before Seunghyun was awake one morning, three months after his brother had left for New York. He heard the older man mumble into the phone, drop it, swear, and pick it up again. Jiyong excitedly informed him that he had been researching Asian pop culture conventions in the U.S., had found one big enough to suit him, and had nagged his manager and YG until they agreed to make it so that he and Youngbae could do a set there.

“That’s great, baby,” said Seunghyun, sounding groggy.

“You’re hungover, aren’t you.”

“No!” muttered Seunghyun unconvincingly. “Just…always working late.”

“Well you can damn well take time off when I come!” Jiyong told him. He was awfully excited; he’d kept himself busy the last few months, even YG had told him he should slow down. It had sort of worked as a distraction, and he’d been very productive; but it was getting too much, he had to see Seunghyun. And now he’d be flown there and get paid for the privilege.

“Course…”

“I wanna do Fifth Avenue after the convention,” continued Jiyong. “Then one famous restaurant, one Broadway show, and the best club in New York; I’ll choose.” Seunghyun grunted unintelligibly at him. “After that,” Jiyong said, “I don’t want to leave your bed ‘til the day I fly back!”

“Mmm.” Seunghyun sounded marginally more awake. “And where are you planning to stash your bandmate while I give you the most orgasms you’ve ever had in a row?”

“Got your attention now, haven’t I!” said Jiyong triumphantly, ignoring the lustful shiver up his spine. “Youngbae can go to museums and shop for sneakers and do publicity in English. You and me are gonna be pizza, your place, wearing bedsheets. Okay?”

“Can’t wait.”

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun hoofed it over to the convention centre to see his brother and Youngbae perform their set, and to collect them from Hoang after. They went down pretty well with the fangirls, which was gratifying. Jiyong’s English had taken on a fluid little American accent when he was rapping or singing, thanks to Seunghyun’s coaching over Skype. It was terribly cute; with his high voice he sounded like a bratty California girl. Oddly enough, it suited him.

“Hey, you,” said Seunghyun, getting backstage with their manager’s dour blessing and enveloping Jiyong in a suitably brotherly hug. “You looked so good up there. Both of you,” he added, giving Jiyong’s partner a smile. Youngbae nodded affably at him and went back to his conversation with one of the event planners. His English was almost flawless.

“See why I said he should do all our PR?” said Jiyong under his breath, arm hooked through Seunghyun’s. The older man could feel the light shiver of excitement over his skin, though he wasn’t sure if it was down to the adrenaline of the concert or because Jiyong was just that pleased to see him.

“You’re all the PR anyone could need just standing there doing nothing,” Seunghyun murmured back, and Jiyong beamed at him, sliding both sweaty arms around his waist.

“I oughta clean up.” Seunghyun wanted to kiss him right there; Jiyong dishevelled was the most alluring sight. “Then we can go for dinner with Youngbae. Hoang booked us in at Atera.”

“Is that one of those weird places where they cook like it’s a chemistry lesson?” asked Seunghyun suspiciously. Jiyong shrugged.

“Youngbae just says it’s Michelin starred and it looks cool.”

“And then,” said Seunghyun firmly, “I think an early night is required. We can go clubbing and stuff tomorrow.” Jiyong gave him a deliberately smouldering look, and went off to get changed. Seunghyun wondered if he’d be able to make it through dinner like a civilised human being.

He did, just about; but by the time Youngbae and his dancer friends had had enough and headed out to party, Jiyong was looking as antsy as Seunghyun felt. So Seunghyun took him home.

“I missed you _so much_ ,” Jiyong told him, embracing him tightly in the lift. Seunghyun leaned down and kissed him for the first time in forever. Jiyong tasted of martinis and himself, and it was so intoxicating Seunghyun didn’t notice when the lift stopped to let them out.

He took Jiyong inside, and the younger man didn’t even wait for the tour before grabbing him, shoving him up against the door and dropping to his knees in front of him.

“I’m gonna blow you ‘til you can’t stand up,” Jiyong informed him earnestly. Then he did.

 

Much later Seunghyun laid his head in Jiyong’s lap. He was very sleepy, thoroughly wrung out by his brother’s attentions, but he didn’t want to waste time when he could be looking at him.

“How’ve you been, baby?” he asked. They spoke all the time online and through video call, but Seunghyun thought there were some things Jiyong might only say face to face. He hadn’t forgotten how unhappy his brother had been, how distressed when he’d said he was going. Jiyong was combing Seunghyun’s hair through his fingers.

“So busy.” The smaller man smiled. “Youngbae’s worn out keeping up with me!” Seunghyun traced the line of Jiyong’s tattooed arm fondly.

“But I mean in yourself,” he said. “Not too lonely?”

“I’m not a recluse, Tabi,” Jiyong told him, giving his hair a sharp tug. “I do know people other than you!”

“I just want to be sure you’re happy,” explained Seunghyun, wincing.

“Hmm.” Jiyong shot him a smile. “I am now.”

“And back home?”

“It’s been…kind of interesting,” Jiyong confessed. “The last couple of months. Saw some old faces, actually.” Seunghyun raised his eyebrows.

“What, those hoodlums you used to hang round with in high school?” Back then he had disapproved of Jiyong’s dumb friends almost as much as he had hated the younger boy. Surely Jiyong was a cut above _them_ now. Seunghyun frowned. It would be all his fault if his brother _was_ lonely enough to go slumming it with his old teenage gang.

“No,” said Jiyong, and hesitated. Seunghyun took hold of his wrist encouragingly. “I…met some relations.”

“Relations!” exclaimed Seunghyun. He couldn’t imagine who: they had a couple of aunts and uncles on their father’s side, but Jiyong was hardly likely to think that was a newsflash. “Who?”

“…My cousin,” said Jiyong in an odd kind of voice. “And her dad.”

“I didn’t know you had any cousins!” Not that that was surprising; Seunghyun knew literally nothing about Jiyong’s mother’s family, and he had thought his brother didn’t either.

“I’d forgotten too.” Jiyong furrowed his eyebrows. “But when Dad told me he’d given Soomi my email, it came back to me: I’ve got two cousins, a girl and a boy. I used to play with them when I was a kid.” Seunghyun sat up at that; he wasn’t sure how to feel about this information, but the tone of Jiyong’s voice told him it required his full attention.

“What did she want?” asked Seunghyun.

“Just to get back in touch.” The younger man made room as Seunghyun shifted up to lie next to him. “To know how I was doing.”

“Why now?” Jiyong frowned mildly at Seunghyun’s interrogative tone, but Seunghyun couldn’t help himself; why would Jiyong’s relations hold off contacting him until he was incredibly rich and famous?

“She didn’t know who I was. I mean, she knew who G-Dragon was but she didn’t realise it was me; guess we’ve all changed a lot since we were little.”

“You still are little.”

“Ha ha.” Jiyong took his brother’s hand and pinched it. “It wasn’t ‘til her dad saw me on TV one day; he thought he knew me. So they did some Googling, whatever, and figured it out. Then Soomi wrote to Dad.”

“And then?”

“She wanted a chat.”

“Yeah, I bet she did,” said Seunghyun drily. Jiyong frowned again.

“What, you think it’s just ‘cos I’m famous?” He sighed. “They’re my _blood_ , Tabi.” It bothered Seunghyun, how much it hurt him to hear that. _He_ was Jiyong’s blood: him, and their father. A perfect unit.

“How did her dad recognise you, if she didn’t?” Seunghyun continued.

“What is this,” said Jiyong in puzzlement, “the Inquisition?”

“Well.”

“He said…” Jiyong paused, looking wistful and pleased in equal parts. “He said I look like his sister. My _mom_ ,” he added, in case Seunghyun hadn’t got the point.

“Ah.” Now Seunghyun knew why this was a delicate subject. He told himself sternly not to be an asshole. “So you met up?” he asked neutrally. Jiyong nodded, threading his fingers through Seunghyun’s.

“A few times now. Mostly Soomi, but I got her to bring her dad out one day. I don’t remember either of them too well, but it’s been…nice.” Jiyong pursed his lips. “To talk about Mom.”

“I guess they could fill in a lot of gaps for you,” said Seunghyun, trying not to feel jealous that these people could give something to his brother he’d never be able to.

“Yeah.” Jiyong’s dark eyes were glowing, and it brought home to Seunghyun how the lack of knowledge, the lack of memories, must have stung at Jiyong all these years. He ought to be glad, he told himself, that his brother had found a way to connect with his mother again.

“So, what did she do?” Seunghyun asked, curious in spite of himself. Jiyong smiled quietly.

“She was a singer.” He laughed, and Seunghyun saw he was truly happy to know it. “What about that! I mean, just cabaret, I guess,” he continued. “That’s where Dad met her.” He looked at the older man’s careful expression, and gave him a chiding smack. “She wasn’t a _hostess_ ,” he said severely.

“I didn’t say anything!”

“And I wouldn’t have cared if she was,” Jiyong said hotly. “Because she loved Dad. She was just like me: she was pretty and dumb and flighty, and she loved him.”

Seunghyun nodded, and tried not to feel weird. There was a lot going on inside him right now: pleasure that Jiyong was happy, of course, but also a bitter undertone at hearing the story of his own mother’s rival; plus a feeling that he refused to label as possessiveness but which was making his stomach clench.

“What did your family think?” he asked Jiyong. “When Dad started a life with her and didn’t marry her?”

“They were pleased for her,” said Jiyong thoughtfully, perhaps now picking up on some of his brother’s tension.

“Did they know he was married?” Seunghyun hadn’t really meant to ask that, but it was irrepressible.

“I guess,” replied Jiyong, and sighed. Already Seunghyun was not feeling well disposed towards his little brother’s relations. He took a calming breath and tightened his fingers on Jiyong’s.

“Don’t look guilty like that, baby,” he instructed. Jiyong’s lips thinned. “It’s not your fault, what Dad did to both our moms. It’s just…why would her family be pleased for her? It wasn’t exactly an ideal situation for her.”

“…I don’t think you get it, Tabi,” said Jiyong after a pensive minute. “My other relations, they’re not like your side of the family; they’re not even like _me_ , not since I went to live with you and Dad.”

“What d’you mean?”

“They’re not _middle class_ ,” Jiyong explained. Seunghyun tried not to look offended, but it was all in the tone: he knew that if Jiyong had known the term _bourgeoisie_ he’d have used it. “I don’t mean that you guys are snobs!” said the younger man hurriedly. “But my cousin’s a hairdresser and my uncle’s a plasterer.”

“What’s your point?”

“That they’re not rich.” Seunghyun huffed, and Jiyong smacked him again, affectionate but sharp. “Look at us with our silver spoons!” Jiyong exclaimed. “We never had to social climb, we had everything we needed.”

“I do get it,” Seunghyun assured him. “They didn’t mind if your mom wasn’t married, because she had a chance to live better; they don’t care about dumb social mores.”

“Exactly.”

“Makes sense.”

“Then why do you sound so grumpy?” demanded Jiyong. “God knows neither of us should get on our high horses over breaking social conventions!” Seunghyun looked at him and wondered how to answer. Jiyong was perfectly right, of course, and Seunghyun _did_ get it. He just didn’t like it. “ _What_?” insisted Jiyong.

“I’m just…concerned,” he said carefully. “About why she really got in touch.”

“Didn’t I just say?”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun prepared himself for a scolding, because this was not going to go down well. But he had to ask, for Jiyong’s wellbeing. “But…how about after that?”

“What’re you trying to say?” Jiyong sounded wary. Seunghyun sighed.

“Have they asked you for anything? I mean, to _do_ anything for them, or give them anything?” Jiyong sat up and glared at him.

“I got Soomi a job styling the girl trainees,” he said coolly. “And she didn’t _ask_ , I offered!”

“Huh. Anything else?”

“ _Gold diggers_?!” snapped Jiyong suddenly. Seunghyun winced; he’d known that tone was coming. “Is that really what you’re worried about, when I tell you something so big?!” The older man sat up to put himself back on his level.

“Of course I’m worried about it,” he said earnestly. “You’re rich and famous, baby. Some people who’ve been strangers half your life contact you out of the blue. Didn’t seek you out before, did they? And already you’re doing favours for them.”

“Can you hear yourself?!” exclaimed Jiyong. “Are you saying you wouldn’t help _me_ out if it didn’t hurt you any? If you could see I needed it?”

“You know I would.” Jiyong sighed in exasperation.

“Of course I did them a favour,” he said. “It’s the same. Because that’s what you do for family.”

Seunghyun felt his mouth tighten and pull down; he knew Jiyong had seen it. But he couldn’t suppress it; he hated the sound of what his brother had said too much.

“Depends who counts as _family_ ,” he said under his breath.

“I knew it!” Jiyong gave him an angry push. “This isn’t about doing people a good turn. You’re _jealous_!”

“Come off it.” It was true, it was so true! Seunghyun was more jealous than he had ever been in his life, and the intensity of it quite startled him: the territorial sense of ownership he felt for Jiyong. It wasn’t _normal,_ he thought frantically. This wasn’t the sort of person he’d imagined himself to be. But there it was: _he_ was Jiyong’s family. And their father, of course; but Jiyong shouldn’t need anyone else!

“So much for your philanthropy!” Jiyong was pale with annoyance. “So much for making me happy!”

“I…” Seunghyun had opened his mouth to give him a spiel of angry logic about why he was right to be concerned for his brother. He managed to force it closed again, and with a great effort leaned back unthreateningly against the headboard. “…You’re right,” he said tightly, scrubbing a hand over his face. Jiyong was watching him narrowly. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Seunghyun wasn’t sorry for being worried, not at all; but he was ashamed of hurting Jiyong when he ought to know better.

“Really?” Jiyong sounded suspicious. Seunghyun smiled weakly.

“I’m just…used to having you all to myself.” The younger man seemed to relax marginally at that. “I want to see you happy,” Seunghyun went on. “I know you’ve been lonely, and I know it’s my fault, and-”

“Okay.” Jiyong cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips. Seunghyun kissed it penitently, and his brother exhaled. “Shut the fuck up for a bit,” Jiyong suggested, “‘cos I’m pissed at you right now, and it’s making everything you say sound dumb.” Seunghyun nodded mutely.

Jiyong wrapped his slim arms around the bigger man in a fraternal bear-hug, and squeezed until Seunghyun was short of breath. Then he drew back, buried his fingers in Seunghyun’s hair and gave him a thoroughly un-familial kiss. Seunghyun grabbed him and returned it passionately.

“Don’t be jealous, Tabi,” murmured Jiyong, after a deep gasp for air. “…You’re the only one who gets _that_!”

“Love you,” muttered Seunghyun; it was the only thing he could possibly say without getting into more trouble.

“Ditto,” said the younger man against his ear, arms tight around him again, best friend and family and lover all at once. “More than anything else.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Seunghyun got back to Seoul he was tired of New York. Not the city itself: that was still terrifying and fascinating in equal measure. He’d just had enough of the fact that it didn’t contain Jiyong. Besides, he wanted to be home; in case Jiyong needed him. It wasn’t because he was jealous, no, not at _all_.

He put his new experience to good use, returning to a promotion at his old organization. More importantly, he could now also return to his brother’s side, and his bed – a few nights a week, at least. Seunghyun felt like a teenager now they were together again. He couldn’t keep his hands off Jiyong, as if his libido was trying to make up for all the months it had wasted jerking off in New York. Jiyong was away frequently, as usual, or out on the town getting his pretty face all over social media. Sometimes Seunghyun went with him, but they both had their own lives and their own friends too. That was healthy, Seunghyun told himself.

“How’re the relations?” he asked one morning, before Jiyong chased him out of bed to make breakfast. He couldn’t bring himself to call them _family_. He’d held off asking about them since he got back; he’d wanted at least a few weeks of peace without an argument.

“Okay,” said Jiyong briefly.

“Just okay?” Jiyong sat up among the pillows and looked vaguely sheepish. “What?” said Seunghyun.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that.” Seunghyun sat up too. He watched Jiyong’s perfect lips form an involuntary pout and smiled, just because it was so good to see.

“There!” said Jiyong huffily. “You’ll only misunderstand on purpose and say ‘I told you so’, and that’s not what I mean at all!”

“I won’t, baby,” Seunghyun told him. “Promise.” Admittedly he was thinking it already, but it didn’t give him any pleasure. Nothing did that made his brother unhappy.

“It’s been a bit…awkward lately.” Jiyong gave him a cagey look.

“Go on,” said Seunghyun encouragingly. The smaller man reached out and took his hand, playing with his fingers while he thought.

“It’s not like I have a lot of time to see Soomi. And her job with the trainees keeps her busy too. I invited her to a few parties, ‘cos it’s good for her to make contacts, and anyway, she’s fun.” He paused. “But about a month ago we were chatting, and she mentioned how they’re having some problems.”

“Money problems?” Seunghyun guessed, trying to sound non-judgemental. Jiyong sighed.

“Something about a mortgage, my other cousin’s business…yeah, basically. So I thought fine, easily solved, I’ll just give them what they need. She didn’t _ask_ for anything,” he told Seunghyun, at his brother’s reproachful expression. “But you know it would make no difference to me, and if it helps them why not?”

“So what’s the problem? They come back and ask for more?”

“No,” said Jiyong quickly. “When I offered, Soomi got all weird and told me they didn’t need charity!”

“Huh.”

“She seemed really angry, actually.” Jiyong frowned prettily. “But then the next time she brought up their problems again, and it was so…odd. So I said again that I’d do anything to help, and she just shut me down.” He leaned back against the pillow and looked at Seunghyun. “I mean, what do I do?”

Seunghyun knew what _he_ would do, but then they weren’t his family. To him it sounded like Jiyong’s cousin wasn’t really the problem – that she was embarrassed to be a part of it. But she was the one with access to his brother, so she was the one stuck with asking. He bet it was the uncle, though he had no real basis for thinking so; but his imagination had already constructed the guy as a grade-A jerk.

“Sounds like there’re two things you could do,” he suggested. “One, ask them what they want. If they won’t tell you, then back off the whole acquaintance right now; you don’t have to be a bitch about it, just put some distance between you and them.”

“I don’t like that at all,” said Jiyong uncomfortably. “It’s so rude.” Seunghyun sighed.

“Thought you wouldn’t. All right. Look, it sounds like Soomi doesn’t really like the idea of taking your money either. But someone wants her to or she wouldn’t keep bringing it up.”

“So?”

“So, you can’t offer. Not to her, anyway. You wanna be so generous, just bypass your cousin and transfer a bunch of cash to your uncle’s bank account – one time, that’s the end of it. She’ll protest; but bet your ass _he_ won’t.”

“But then she’ll be weird with me again!”

“…Perhaps that’s for the best, baby,” said Seunghyun gently. “These people, they’ve done something good for you, sharing stuff about your mom. Now you do something good for them – not that you haven’t already. Fair exchange. If your cousin has any tact at all she’ll back off and let the acquaintance fade.”

“What if they don’t?” Jiyong was far too sweet for his own good, thought Seunghyun.

“Lawyer up,” he stated. Jiyong made a face. “If they don’t drop it, if they ask you for more, then you _know_ they’re gold diggers. If you say yes they’ll be asking you for stuff the rest of your life. If you say no…well, I’m not saying they would, but they _could_ get pissed and spread some pretty mean gossip about you – about Dad and your mom.” Seunghyun thought Jiyong was going to be cross at him again, but the younger man just looked glum.

“Relatives are like…really complicated to deal with,” he admitted.

“You’re telling me!” said Seunghyun. “Well, guess you can’t choose your family.” He leaned down and kissed Jiyong’s knuckles. “But you can choose who matters.”

“…You matter,” Jiyong told him.

“Thank you, baby. And I’m not jealous, honestly.” Still a lie, but less so than before. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“High-handed as usual,” said Jiyong, smiling.

“Because you matter too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Things largely returned to normal after that. Seunghyun never found out exactly what had happened with his brother’s side of the family, but Jiyong seemed content and that was the main thing. He just hoped that was the end of the whole matter. Their life together stabilised again, and Seunghyun thought Jiyong had forgiven him for going to New York. But the jealous streak that interlude had prompted in them both didn’t seem ready to fade just yet.

“Who’s that girl calling you _oppa_?” muttered Jiyong in the older man’s ear. He sounded just cross enough to get Seunghyun excited, which was not what you wanted to happen in the middle of a gallery party for a swanky new furniture designer.

“One of the interns at the office,” Seunghyun told him coolly. “She’s into interior decorating too, so I got her an invitation.”

“She’s very pretty,” said Jiyong in a censorious tone. “She’s what, twenty? Twenty-one?”

“I guess.”

“Hmph.”

“Oh, get off it.” Seunghyun snagged more wine from a passing tray. “As if some undergrad has a chance against _you_.” Jiyong gave him an arch look, then turned to chat up a comedian who had just materialised at his side.

“It’s not you I worry about,” Jiyong told Seunghyun _sotto voce_ when he was done. “It’s everyone else! You’re _so hot_ , Tabi.” Seunghyun felt himself blush inconveniently; Jiyong’s lovely face had dropped into one of those wicked expressions that he was quite helpless against. “Of course people are gonna fling themselves at you. I don’t want to wake up and find pictures of G-Dragon’s brother with some starlet attached to his face all over my social media.”

“ _I’m_ the one who ought to be jealous!” said Seunghyun indignantly, trying to keep his voice down. “I’ve seen the paparazzi shots of you and that model in Tokyo!”

“Well.” Jiyong gave him a teasing smirk. “We’ve been out a few times.”

“Oh have you.”

“Don’t worry, Tabi.” The younger man slid his arm through Seunghyun’s, and Seunghyun felt better. He knew Jiyong enjoyed messing with him, but he couldn’t believe he wanted to cause him any real concern. Not after Seunghyun’s recent exhibition of insecurity over his relatives. “…You know I’m not interested in women,” Jiyong said quietly. After a pause Seunghyun nodded. “I like her, I think she’s fun, and that’s all. We’re friends.”

“…Isn’t that a bit unfair on her?” asked Seunghyun, with his usual selective morals. Jiyong patted his arm, let his fingers linger on it.

“I’m not using her, Tabi. Well. I guess we’re using each other; or at least using one scandal to cover a worse one. She’s seeing a married man, and I’m…” He leaned against Seunghyun’s side briefly.

“All right.” Seunghyun managed to resist the urge to kiss him. “I’ll try not to be jealous.” Jiyong smiled, and Seunghyun knew he’d be getting a whole lot more that night.

 

Despite what Jiyong said, thought Seunghyun, it was difficult not to feel a little sting every now and again. He’d got over seeing Jiyong looking cosy with gorgeous models and female idols. But their last conversation had only reminded him that there was a whole other sex he needed to worry about. Jiyong’s new collaboration partner, for instance, was extremely flirty, and Jiyong _definitely_ indulged him.

“You keep leading on that brat Seungri,” Seunghyun warned his brother over the top of his financial paper, “and you’ll have one mean vengeful lover to deal with!” Jiyong shot him a pitying look and a smirk.

“It’s just fanservice, dummy!”

“ _Is_ it.”

“Of course.”

“For you, maybe,” said Seunghyun darkly. “Just be warned: I’m not above whupping some idol ass if I catch him anywhere near yours!”

“Classy, Tabi.”

“Well.” Seunghyun left it at that, then wished he hadn’t even brought it up when the next week on live TV Jiyong gave Seungri a long kiss right on the cheek and let the younger man grab him to his heart’s content for the entire duration of their duet. Jiyong was a master; Seunghyun had never been more besotted. And when he wasn’t thinking about throttling Seungri or giving Jiyong orgasms until he quit flirting with other men, he started planning his revenge.

It wasn’t too many months afterwards that Seunghyun had his own opportunity to really make his brother jealous – though it was in a way he had never wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is Seunghyun's big (dumb) plan? Stay tuned :)
> 
> (For Seungri fans, he's totally gonna come around again later. Nyongtory was my first fave pairing - just 'cos they're so, SO blatant about it XD)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun has to relinquish his baby brother to a major rite of passage, and Jiyong continues jealous, with somewhat more justification than before.

Their father had been after Seunghyun for a year or so now to start seeing someone seriously; to find a life partner, marry, settle down and give him some grandchildren.

“You have to be discerning,” the older man warned his son, who was half-listening and making a dour face. “You’ve seen my track record! But a man like you needs someone who can stand up with him. You’re going to go far, son, and you’ll want a good match to help you; you’re not getting any younger.”

“If I find someone I’ll find someone,” Seunghyun always answered stubbornly; he was barely twenty-seven, far too young for this kind of lecture. But their father was persistent. Sometimes he’d bring it up when Jiyong was there – his younger son never got the same talk, being a flighty celebrity – and it made Seunghyun cringe when he thought of how his brother must feel.

Seunghyun ignored it for as long as he could, which was quite a long time because Jiyong’s happiness certainly trumped their father’s matchmaking urges. Still, the feeling that he wasn’t pleasing the man became a painful niggle in the back of his mind. So when the chance came to do something about it he thought he should take it.

The only difficult bit would be persuading Jiyong. This was causing Seunghyun some problems, because he was very reluctant for Jiyong to play his part. His brother had just informed him that YG had brought them all in for a meeting, and it was this meeting that would make Seunghyun’s whole sordid plan possible.

“Youngbae wants time to do solo stuff,” Jiyong explained. He looked a bit hurt at that, but soon shook it off. “He’s pretty big in Japan and his language skills are better than mine. They’ve asked him to do some TV, maybe be a regular on a variety show, and release his own music in Japanese.”

“Well, doesn’t that free you up?” Seunghyun asked, taking Jiyong’s hand encouragingly. “You have so much stuff you can’t fit into the music GD and Taeyang make, you could do some of that with other artists. Maybe that Seungri.” Seunghyun pulled a face; he didn’t love that Jiyong spent so much time with the younger man and his shameless flirting, but they made a very entertaining pair. “Or by yourself,” he added hopefully.

“I could,” agreed Jiyong. “But YG and Hoang think I might as well start my hiatus this year, while Youngbae’s busy. Then we can carry right back on when I’m done.”

“Hiatus?” said Seunghyun suspiciously. “You don’t mean-”

“Yep,” replied Jiyong. “They want me to do my military service now, after this tour.”

“But you’re only twenty-four!” exclaimed Seunghyun. “You don’t have to go for ages yet.” The thought of losing Jiyong to national service for two years was simply awful.

“Still, I won’t have to do a Master’s degree if I go now.” Jiyong looked pretty relieved about that, anyway; there would be no need for any more education to put off his enlistment.

“But-!”

“I know how much it sucks,” said Jiyong drily. “At least I’m _telling_ you, Tabi. Not just fucking off and blocking your phone number!” Seunghyun kept quiet; he deserved that.

“I’ll miss you so much,” he said at last, pulling Jiyong into his arms impulsively and squeezing him until he gasped. He hadn’t spent longer than a month without Jiyong since he had come back from New York, and though he wasn’t necessarily conscious of it Seunghyun had grown to rely on his little brother’s presence.

“I’ll call you,” Jiyong assured him, moved, his sweet lips against Seunghyun’s cheek. “And message you, and write, and all the stuff you never did for me. And I can come visit, right?”

“Sometimes,” muttered Seunghyun glumly.

“It’ll be all right, Tabi.” Jiyong stroked his hair. “Besides, it won’t be totally strange. I’m gonna try and join your unit! Where you and Dad went.” Seunghyun pulled back at that, and looked at him.

“It’s tough, baby,” he said dubiously. “Idols can swing it so they work for the city police or military PR or something, right?”

“You think I can’t hack it?” demanded Jiyong. “I _can_. And it’d be good for my public image. Besides, you’re not the only one who gets to make Dad proud!” Ah. Seunghyun understood that, at least, and it had worked when it had been him joining that unit; their father’s approval was one of the best feelings in the world.

“Ask him, then,” he said with an effort; it was very hard to wish Jiyong away from the city. “He’ll be happy to pull some strings, I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Tabi.” Jiyong sighed and pulled him back into his arms. “And when I get out, it’ll be you and me. Forever.”

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until a week later that the idea cemented itself in Seunghyun’s mind. He knew Jiyong wouldn’t like it, but it could be the answer to one of their most bothersome problems.

“You want a _what_?” demanded Jiyong, sounding horrified.

“A girlfriend,” Seunghyun repeated. “Just while you’re away.”

“ _Tabi_.” Jiyong had gone pale with pre-emptive jealousy.

“Not a real one!” explained Seunghyun hurriedly, because it was quite scary to have his brother look at him like that. “Just a…temporary one.”

“What for?”

“For Dad.”

“I…” Jiyong stopped talking and thought about this, much to Seunghyun’s relief. “You mean, to squash his matchmaking,” said Jiyong at last. “To get him off your back.”

“At least for a while,” Seunghyun agreed. “I’ll even ask him to find someone for me, he’ll like that.”

“Then you break up with her dramatically.” Jiyong took a long swig of his tea and looked at him narrowly. “You’re heartbroken and Dad lays off about you settling down.”

“Seeing as I’m the only one he nags.”

“He doesn’t expect normal behaviour from me,” Jiyong said, part smug and part resigned. “I’m a celebrity. And a bastard.”

“Don’t say that shit!” snapped Seunghyun. “You know he doesn’t care about that!”

“Well, maybe not.” Jiyong smiled uncertainly. “But you’re the one he’s fixated on getting hitched. So I think you’re right, Tabi. We have to do something about this. For _us_.”

“…And you won’t be jealous?” said Seunghyun cautiously. Jiyong’s brittle smile widened.

“Oh, I’ll be jealous. I haven’t seen you with a woman since I was sixteen. Remember how well _that_ went?”

“You punched me in the face.” Seunghyun couldn’t find it in himself to be too angry about that, because the next moment Jiyong had been kissing him, and they had never looked back. “I reckon I can take another hit if it means I get to keep you.” Jiyong gave him a fond look.

“All right. Go ahead, ask Dad. Just…fair warning, Tabi.” He tapped Seunghyun on the nose. “Brace yourself.”

 

* * *

 

 

The day Jiyong went off to Basic Training was one of the hardest of his life. There was no privacy about his farewells; he had already done an obligatory press conference, but a bunch of journalists and fans still showed up at the pickup point, rendering his goodbyes to his family a matter of public record. Jiyong had chosen to ride the service bus to the camp along with a bunch of other trainees, instead of taking his private car; he wanted to at least appear normal to his fellow soldiers. He was wondering now if that was a mistake…

He accepted his father’s proud hug gladly, then stepped into Seunghyun’s embrace, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder. He didn’t want to let go; Seunghyun was holding him so tightly it hurt, and Jiyong wanted to imprint the sensation on his body because he wouldn’t feel it again for months and months.

He had spent the last two days alone with Seunghyun, in his presence constantly because he knew for the next few weeks he would be sick with wanting him. They’d scarcely been out of bed, only getting dressed for Jiyong to have his new military haircut and for a final dinner with their father. Jiyong had cried a bit, self-indulgently, when they were alone, just so he wouldn’t now. But it was a struggle.

“Call me,” said Seunghyun urgently in his ear, and at last let go.

“When I’m allowed,” replied Jiyong. He wanted to kiss his brother goodbye, but it was impossible; they had given all their kisses before they went to pick up their father in Seunghyun’s car.

“Be good!” said their father enthusiastically.

“It’ll be easy for you,” Seunghyun assured him. “If you can handle being a YG trainee the mountain’ll be nothing!”

“Right.” Jiyong shouldered his bag, got another unplanned and frantic hug from his brother, then set his jaw and walked towards the bus. He could hear the cameras going off around him, so he tried to look anticipatory rather than miserable. He handed his papers to the uniformed men in charge, slung his bag in the back of the bus, and climbed on. Shading his eyes he could see Seunghyun watching him, one hand over his mouth. Jiyong raised his own hand in a solemn wave. Their father waved back. Then he took his seat and lost sight of them.

Jiyong sat in silence as the bus finally pulled away. He looked out of the window at the highway, focusing hard on not crying. Really, he had no reason to; they’d known he’d have to do his military service eventually. And he was going somewhere that ought to be familiar, from his father and Seunghyun’s stories of the unit. He might even meet some people they’d known. It would be fun, Jiyong told himself. He’d _make_ it fun.

When he got a hold on himself and turned back to his fellow recruits he saw several who looked like they felt the same: quiet and homesick and apprehensive. Some of them were obviously teenagers, others his own age or older. There were quite a few who maybe knew each other, or else were gregarious and excited enough to be shouting to each other down the bus. One of these was sitting next to him. Everyone had been ignoring Jiyong – he didn’t mind that, had almost been making himself small to ensure it – but eventually the boy beside him stopped yapping and turned to face him. Jiyong was used to people staring at him, but felt himself blush under the scrutiny.

“You’re that idol, aren’t you,” the young man commented.

“Yeah,” said Jiyong politely. “My name’s Jiyong.” The seats around him went quiet, and suddenly half the bus was staring at him. Jiyong did not want to slip into the GD persona – it would be far too taxing to keep that up for the next two years – but without it he felt shy. He could feel his ears going red. The boy next to him stared at him for several more seconds.

“How come you’re here? Don’t celebs get given the cushy jobs?” Jiyong was trying to decide if his tone was aggressive or just interested.

“My family’s always joined this one unit after Basic,” he explained. More people were listening now. Jiyong felt terribly awkward. “Where are you from?” he asked cautiously.

“Jamsil.” The guy didn’t smile, but he did look fascinated. He didn’t offer any more information. Jiyong was beginning to feel intimidated. Then the boy opened his mouth, and in a very serious tone asked, “Hey. How many supermodels do you know?”

Jiyong grinned, suddenly relieved. Maybe it wouldn’t be too hard to fit in with these men after all.

“Who’s your favourite?” he inquired. And they all started talking at once.

 

* * *

 

 

A month after Jiyong left for the Army, Seunghyun found himself staring at the woman his father had found for him. It had taken the older man a while, but Seunghyun had to hand it to him: not only was she the daughter of the head of a law firm, she was an absolute knockout. And right now he couldn’t have been less interested in meeting her.

He was missing Jiyong with a fierceness that kept him awake some nights. Communication was deliberately limited during Basic Training, he knew, but knowing didn’t help. He missed the constant sharing between them: of major news, of small daily occurrences, even of their random thoughts. Seunghyun knew now why Jiyong had been compelled to write to him. He’d started doing it himself, and now after a month he had a pile of paper in his almost illegible handwriting that he was saving up to post once Jiyong arrived on base. He hoped he would write back soon.

“Why don’t you two young’uns go make some drinks?” said Mina’s father. Seunghyun smiled politely and followed her through to the kitchen. He could sense her approval already, and he’d barely said two words to her. This wasn’t about him, then; it was about his face. Well, he supposed he could just about cope with dating someone based on mutual satisfaction in each other’s hotness, if that was as far as it went. So long as she didn’t expect any actual affection, because he had none to spare.

 

As it turned out, Mina didn’t seem to care much about affection. What she wanted was attention, and with Jiyong gone Seunghyun found he had enough to go around. Mina was like Jiyong insofar as she loved brands, expensive restaurants and the hottest clubs. And that she was vain. This actually worked pretty well for Seunghyun, who had an entrée to the most exclusive nightspots thanks to his brother, because it meant he could date her very much on autopilot.

It felt strange at first, enduring these places without the pleasure and excitement of Jiyong’s company. But he got used to it, and he couldn’t deny that Mina made him look good – she even got the approval of his mother, who generally thought _no_ girl was good enough for her precious son. They went out a couple of times a week to begin with, Seunghyun assiduously dropping her off at her front door afterwards. She worked as PA to some big financier, and had an apartment near the business district. Soon enough she invited him in. Seunghyun didn’t want to go, but in the end he had no choice. Not if he wanted to make this convincing.

The first time he kissed her he felt like a traitor. He only did it because by that point it would have been too suspicious not to. It was awkward and horrible – for him, at least. Mina didn’t seem to have any complaints. She asked him in, but for once Seunghyun was too smart to agree. He knew where that would have led, so he left her on her doorstep and basically fled.

The next time he was a bit more mentally prepared, and while he didn’t enjoy it he felt he’d be able to cope with it. Mina did smell good: expensive, like Jiyong, and her long hair was silky beneath his fingers. It was…bearable.

He knew he’d crossed a line when it stopped being bearable and started feeling pleasurable. He just didn’t know how to come back from it without making her want to dump him. So he kept on doing it, and before long it began to escalate. Seunghyun refused to actually fuck her, or let her sleep in his bed if she came to visit. But he did other things. Really, he had no option.

He didn’t know if it made things better or worse that he felt no emotional connection to Mina at all. He supposed it would have been more dangerous if he had, or if she had – he felt attraction from her end, sure, but nothing that amounted to genuine personal interest. That was low enough, agreeing to such a relationship. The fact that he was using her made him feel guilty; but it was the thought of Jiyong’s reaction that made him almost sick. His brother had agreed with him that the relationship would need to seem real. But Seunghyun was careful to tell him only the bare minimum. He didn’t admit to Jiyong that Mina could make him hard.

 

* * *

 

 

One hundred days passed. Seunghyun had been waiting for what felt like much longer, but at last Jiyong was given permission to take his first furlough. Jiyong called him with the news, sounding so happy and excited that Seunghyun felt a glow of warmth all through him.

“I have three days,” came his brother’s voice from its remote location in the mountains. “I’ll be home the Saturday after next!”

“Oh, baby,” said Seunghyun enthusiastically, “I can’t wait to see you!”

“Can you tell Dad?”

“Of course,” replied Seunghyun. “You know he’ll wanna do a family thing.”

“Yeah.” Jiyong’s voice dropped. “We…we can spend some time together though, right?” Seunghyun’s reaction to that was physical; he was lucky he was by himself in the office because just the thought of what they would be able to do once they were alone had him as hard as a teenager.

“Of _course_ ,” he said fervently, immediately starting to plot how many hours he’d be able to have Jiyong to himself.

“Good.” Jiyong’s high voice had taken on a slightly odd tone; Seunghyun couldn’t read it, but put it down to bad reception. “I gotta go, Tabi. Text me later, yeah?”

Seunghyun said goodbye and put the phone down. For the rest of the afternoon he was useless. Jiyong was coming home! After more than three months… It was _too long_. Seunghyun closed his eyes and imagined having his brother in his arms again. Suddenly the two weeks he would have to wait seemed quite impossible.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun waited impatiently for Jiyong’s car to arrive. He would have been happy to go and collect him, but YG had kindly sent a company car to bring him back to Seoul.

“Did Chan-mi get the salad stuff?” asked Seunghyun’s father, loading wine and beers into the spare fridge.

“It’s okay,” Mina replied over Seunghyun’s head, “I’ve got it covered.” Seunghyun’s father beamed at her and went back to the living-room to talk to her parents. Seunghyun toyed absently with a stack of placemats and half listened as his girlfriend told him in detail about her boss’s affair. He couldn’t have repeated a sentence if he’d tried.

Their father had been justifiably delighted that his younger son was coming home – something Seunghyun had never managed to do, he pointed out chidingly – and had decided to throw a big family dinner. Seunghyun was disconcerted and a little frustrated to hear that ‘family’ now included Mina and her parents; his father was evidently putting a lot of faith in this relationship. Seunghyun felt sort of bad about that, but was more annoyed because he wanted Jiyong to himself this weekend; he didn’t want to share him with people who might as well be strangers. Not to mention how Jiyong would react when he found Seunghyun’s girlfriend in front of him. Seunghyun supposed it would be too much to ask for the two years of Jiyong’s military service to pass without them meeting once. Just not now. He had wanted this visit to make his brother happy. But he could hardly say that to their father.

The doorbell rang as Mina was passing him the napkins.

“I got it!!” yelled Seunghyun at the rest of the house, thrusting them back into her hands. He left her looking slightly deafened and almost ran for the door.

“ _Tabi_.” There was Jiyong, kit bag over his shoulder and driver parked in the lane behind him. Seunghyun grabbed him and pulled him inside, throwing his arms around him before he could get another word out. Jiyong sank against him with a long sigh. Seunghyun breathed him in gratefully, one hand smoothing over the velvety bristles of his short hair.

“Welcome home,” Seunghyun told him. “How was the drive? Are you tired?” He was surprised at quite how emotional he sounded. They held each other for a long minute; then Seunghyun felt the younger man stiffen in his arms.

“Jiyong,” came their father’s warm voice from behind Seunghyun. “Good to see you, son.” Seunghyun drew back and caught a glimpse of a complicated expression on Jiyong’s face. He let him go so Jiyong could go and greet the older man, watched him get swept up in another hug. “Now,” said their father in satisfaction, “let me introduce everyone before you settle down.” He gave Jiyong’s shoulder a squeeze; Jiyong looked tiredly happy for a moment.

“This is my friend Mr. Chung, and his wife.” Jiyong gave them a very proper bow; years in show business had taught him flawless public manners. “And their daughter. Come on, now,” said their father, addressing Seunghyun encouragingly, “introduce your girlfriend properly.”

Another thing fame had taught Jiyong, Seunghyun remembered at that moment, was perfect facial control. For an instant his brother’s eyes gleamed ambiguously, before his features set in pleasant anticipation. It wasn’t as if Seunghyun was springing a total shock on him; he had alerted the younger man to the family dinner as soon as their father had arranged it. Jiyong had obviously not been thrilled, but had seemed to accept it as something he would have to deal with. Now, though, Seunghyun was worried.

“Jiyong, this is Mina. Mina, this is my brother.”

“Oh, I know,” said Mina, smiling. Jiyong turned to her and smiled right back. They were the same height, Seunghyun saw. “It’s nice to finally meet you. You look like…well, like your pictures.”

“Thanks!” Jiyong replied brightly. “I’ve not seen your picture, but Tabi said you were gorgeous. He wasn’t wrong.” Seunghyun was listening hard for any hint of displeasure in Jiyong’s tone, but he couldn’t catch much. He wasn’t used to not being able to read his brother, and it bothered him.

“All right,” said their father, taking charge again. “Chan-mi made your old room up, Jiyong. Go make yourself at home, then relax.”

“Can’t I help?” said Jiyong. Seunghyun wondered if he was feeling as awkward as he did himself: as if Jiyong was a visitor. Their father patted the younger man on the back and pushed him towards the stairs.

“No, off you go. Sit outside, it’s nice; we’ve got dinner sorted.”

Jiyong shot a look at Seunghyun as they all dispersed back to the kitchen or dining room. The bigger man gazed back at him; he was even more beautiful than Seunghyun remembered, his shorn head accentuating the fine bones of his face. He might have lost a bit of weight, but that wasn’t surprising; often the food wasn’t up to much on the mountain. Seunghyun wanted to go with him, to hide away in his room together like they used to. But Mina was calling him to help her mother. Jiyong jerked his chin for him to go, and trotted away up the stairs. Seunghyun returned to his chores, resenting every other person in the house.

 

At last he was released from kitchen duty. Seunghyun immediately headed outside; he had been watching Jiyong’s small figure through the window the whole time he was washing up, his slim frame draped across a shady bench in the garden like a basking cat. Jiyong looked up as Seunghyun approached, and smiled; Seunghyun wanted to pick him up and carry him off.

“Budge up,” he said instead, and sat down beside him. Jiyong sighed contentedly. “How come you’re still so fair?” asked Seunghyun curiously, touching his brother’s smooth cheek. “I got burned something chronic up there in the summer.”

“Constantly putting on sunscreen.” Jiyong stretched and shifted a little closer to him. “My stylists all ganged up before I left and threatened me, so I gotta be careful!”

“You look really good,” said Seunghyun softly, and meant it. Jiyong curled one corner of his mouth up.

“Thanks, Tabi. If there’s one thing I learned in the last few months it’s that I really am vain; I missed getting complimented.” Seunghyun laughed at him.

“Be grateful. You wouldn’t believe how sick I was of the phrase ‘pretty boy’ by the time I got off that mountain.” Now it was Jiyong’s turn to laugh.

“Actually there’re some guys up there who still call you that. They said to tell you hi, by the way.”

“Hmph,” said Seunghyun, half sour and half pleased at being remembered by the career soldiers. “So. How is it?” he asked, linking his arm through Jiyong’s and putting his feet up on a garden stool. “Military life.” Jiyong peered down the lawn, eyes narrowed against the bright sun.

“Lonely.” He smiled at Seunghyun quickly as he turned to him in concern. “No, I mean, it’s okay, it’s just…”

“Yeah, I know.” Seunghyun remembered; you could make friends on base, but it wasn’t the same as real life. You had each other’s backs, but you ragged on each other too, and when you left the Army it was all too easy to let the friendship slip. He wasn’t sure how much to Jiyong’s taste that type of relationship would be. Jiyong would have fanboys up there too, he was sure; but that had to be even weirder.

“I met quite a few guys who say they know you,” Jiyong added. “They’re all older; they seem nice enough, though.”

“Is Sergeant Kim still there?” asked Seunghyun. “Tall, scar on his left jaw.” Jiyong nodded.

“Lieutenant Kim, now. I think he basically runs the show when the bigshots are away. He’s one of the ones who talked to me about you. It was nice of him, he looks so busy.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Yup.”

They sat there quietly after that, heads tilted back to catch the late afternoon sun through the gingko leaves. Seunghyun wanted to hold Jiyong’s hand; it wasn’t that he was trying to baby his brother, who was clearly capable of getting through military service perfectly well on his own. He just worried about him.

“Drink, honey?” Seunghyun cracked his eyes open and there was Mina, looking resplendent in an apron. She’d only do the domestic thing around their parents – she was far too modern to act like a housewife with him – but when she did she was pretty good at it. She sat down on the arm of the bench next to him. Seunghyun could sense Jiyong’s arm tense in his. Mina shot a look at the younger man.

“How about you?”

Seunghyun suddenly felt deeply uncomfortable stuck between them.

“No, thank you,” said Jiyong politely, and closed his eyes again. Seunghyun shook his head. Mina smiled, touched him lightly on the shoulder, and sashayed back towards the house. Even barefoot her legs went on forever. “…I wish she wasn’t here,” Jiyong murmured beside him. “It’s not that she’s not cool. I just wish it was only real family.”

“I know, baby.” Seunghyun stroked his thumb against the tattooed inside of Jiyong’s elbow. “I promise you I want that too. Just be patient.”

 

Dinner went off pretty well. Their father was a good talker, as was Chung – lawyers tended that way, and it was only because Seunghyun was anxious that he didn’t add much to the conversation – and Jiyong and Mina were on their best behaviour. Seunghyun thought he was the only one who noticed that Jiyong was inhabiting his celebrity persona, the one he adopted when he went on variety shows: amusing and adorable but willing to let the hosts lead the flow of talk. It bothered Seunghyun that Jiyong felt it necessary to behave that way at what was meant to be a family occasion. Was it because of Mina? They seemed to get on well enough. Maybe he was just finding it difficult to get used to a civilian environment again. Seunghyun could understand that.

Afterwards the younger generation cleared the plates away, and when they got back the formal table had broken up and their parents had started drinking.

“You kids have fun,” said Mrs. Chung, waving them off. “Jiyong’s had a long journey, the last thing he wants to do is make small talk with oldies.”

Jiyong gave her a pretty genuine smile, then grabbed Seunghyun by the wrist and dragged him off into the den, leaving the connecting door open. Sensible, thought the older man, who wanted nothing more than to bury his face in Jiyong’s neck. They dusted off the old PS3 instead and set up _Gran Turismo_. That was nostalgic; Jiyong obviously thought so too. He bumped Seunghyun’s shoulder fondly, then commenced kicking his ass.

Some time later Seunghyun thought he caught his name being mentioned from the other room, but he was having way too much fun to find out what they wanted.

“Oh, you won’t get between those two, my girl,” he heard his father say a minute later, as Jiyong completed a sneaky move and cut him off. Seunghyun elbowed him and he laughed triumphantly. “Everyone knows they’re inseparable. Come have a drink with your mother.” Mina sighed pointedly from the doorway – Seunghyun barely noticed she had been there – and went off to join the parents.

The next time Seunghyun got up to fetch more drinks from the living-room sideboard he detected a certain frosty vibe coming from his girlfriend. Mina didn’t say anything, just passed him the ice bucket.

“…It’s empty,” Seunghyun said stupidly, as if she didn’t know.

“Give the man a prize,” Mina commented sweetly, just low enough to be out of hearing of their parents. “Maybe you could go get some more, if you can tear yourself away from your boy’s club over there.”

Seunghyun blinked; he recognized that tone. He supposed he had been neglecting her, and that was rude; but surely she could understand that he wanted to spend time with his brother? Perhaps she just wanted to be included, he thought. Jiyong was a star, after all. What girl wouldn’t want to hang out with him?

“Sorry, baby,” he said contritely. He saw Jiyong looking over at them, waiting for him with the game on pause. “You wanna play too?” Mina sighed again; it dawned on Seunghyun that he really wasn’t very good at reading her.

“Just…go get the ice-cream! It’s time for pudding, your dad says. They’re getting drunk.”

Seunghyun walked off, puzzled. Was it that he didn’t understand her as well as he’d thought? Or that he just hadn’t made the effort to? Or was it having Jiyong here that had changed her behaviour? He went into the pantry and opened the big freezer.

“Don’t say that again,” came Jiyong’s voice suddenly from behind him. Seunghyun jumped and dropped the ice-cream; Jiyong had always been graceful, but now he could move like a cat.

“What are you, stealth regiment?!” Seunghyun turned round. Jiyong was right up in his space, looking at him murderously. Seunghyun hadn’t seen that expression since his brother was sixteen. What now? he thought worriedly. This was turning into the most complicated evening.

“Don’t you _dare_ call her ‘baby’!” growled Jiyong. Seunghyun gaped at him for several seconds before realising that his brother was purely jealous. Then he grabbed Jiyong’s shorn head in both hands and kissed him, the first time in months and a completely foolish thing to do right now. “Get me out of here,” Jiyong ordered breathlessly, evidently disagreeing, his fingers caressing on Seunghyun’s wrists. “I wanna be in your bed an hour after dessert!”

“Tomorrow.” Seunghyun sighed heavily; he was getting awfully turned on. “Dad’s invited Mina and I to stay over tonight.”

“In the same room?!” exclaimed Jiyong, sounding scandalised. He glared up at Seunghyun, who kissed him again quickly before stepping away for safety’s sake and picking up the tub of ice-cream.

“Of course not. She’s in one of the spares down at the end.”

“Good.” Jiyong fixed his brother with a frown. “You stay away from that room, Tabi. If you do anything under this roof it’s gonna be with _me_.”

“Nobody’s doing anything under this roof,” said Seunghyun gloomily. “Unfortunately.”

 

For all that, Seunghyun couldn’t sleep. Their father and his guests had called it a night shortly before midnight when the Chungs’ taxi arrived, and the older man had gone tipsily to bed. Mina followed almost immediately, leaning down to drop a light kiss on Seunghyun’s temple as she went; Seunghyun couldn’t tell if she’d forgiven him, if she was saving face in front of his brother, or if she was staking a claim. He didn’t even want to look at Jiyong for fear of what he’d see in his face.

“I’m so tired,” Jiyong said neutrally. Seunghyun heard him yawn. “Night, Tabi. Set your alarm for tomorrow; I wanna get out of this house pronto.”

“Night,” offered Seunghyun. Jiyong left the room silently, giving Seunghyun no indication of his mood.

An hour later Seunghyun was in his old bed, lying awake, filled with memories of their first summer almost ten years ago. He had felt very like this: worried and frustrated and horny. He gave up trying to sleep and went to use the bathroom. He stepped out again, and there was Jiyong in front of him in the corridor.

Neither of them spoke. Jiyong just held out his arms and Seunghyun stepped silently into his embrace, folding him close. Jiyong’s hair was prickly where he’d tucked his head beneath Seunghyun’s chin. The younger man leaned against him and exhaled slowly. A feeling of relief began to well up from Seunghyun’s stomach; relief that Jiyong wasn’t mad at him, of course, but it was more than that – a sense of completion in his brother’s presence, with nobody and no words between them.

Seunghyun rubbed his thumb slowly across the sensitive spot behind Jiyong’s ear, and Jiyong nuzzled even closer. Seunghyun knew that this might be the only physical contact – the only meaningful kind, anyway, drill didn’t count – that his brother had had for months. That wasn’t right: Jiyong was an affectionate creature who needed proof that he was cared for. The older man resolved to satiate him with adoration for the next two days and send him back to base happy and fulfilled. He held Jiyong for a good five minutes, neither of them moving or speaking. By then Jiyong was nodding sleepily against him – he really must be worn out – so Seunghyun sent him back to bed. The morning couldn’t come soon enough.

 

* * *

 

 

As soon as they walked through Seunghyun’s front door Jiyong was on him; Seunghyun barely managed to kick his shoes off before Jiyong had tripped him using a classic Basic Training move, shoving him down hard on the polished hall floor.

“All right, so you learned something up there!” Seunghyun gasped. “You could at least have got to the carpet before you demonstrated on me…!” Jiyong didn’t reply, just dropped to his knees, shrugging off his jacket as he went. His black eyes were snapping with an intensity that had Seunghyun’s libido sniffing the air immediately. “What is it, baby?” he asked, reaching for the smaller man.

“If you’re fucking that woman,” Jiyong said sincerely, climbing astride Seunghyun’s hips and pinning him down, “I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not,” promised Seunghyun. “Not _actually_.” Not that it had been easy: Mina wasn’t a traditionalist, and she had needs she wanted met. And she could make herself look extremely attractive. Seunghyun had found it a balancing act between satisfying her and not going too far; it was only by comparing her to Jiyong that he was able to put things in perspective. “She thinks I’m a prude now,” he told his brother.

“She can think you’re a goddamn monk as far as I’m concerned.” Jiyong slid his hand down Seunghyun’s throat, and shifted his slim hips against the older man’s growing erection. “Mmm.” He smiled in a way Seunghyun hadn’t seen in months and which made his head spin. “This is _mine_. And I don’t share my property!” The next moment he had ripped Seunghyun’s fly open and was yanking his jeans down around his hips. Jiyong licked his pretty lips, an excited flush rising in his cheeks. He leaned down and kissed his prone brother hungrily. He tasted absolutely delicious; Seunghyun slid his hands over Jiyong’s narrow waist to fumble with his belt buckle until Jiyong slapped him away.

“Keep them to yourself!” Jiyong was still angry, Seunghyun could tell, though it didn’t seem to be stopping him. “You don’t have any right to touch me, Tabi, not when you’ve been touching _her_ too!” Seunghyun opened his mouth to complain, but Jiyong slapped him hard on the chest. “ _I_ am gonna touch _you_ ,” Jiyong informed him, closing his fingers around Seunghyun’s cock. The familiar and longed-for sensation of his grip made Seunghyun moan aloud. “Until you don’t even remember her name!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Seunghyun pleaded. He could think of nothing better. Jiyong sat up and dragged his tshirt over his head, exposing his slim, tattooed body. God, Seunghyun had missed that! Jiyong _was_ thinner, he saw, but the Army was keeping him in great shape. The younger man held him down with his left hand and wriggled out of the rest of his clothes with the help of his right, spurning Seunghyun’s eager offers of assistance.

“Does she look as good as I do?” demanded Jiyong, taking Seunghyun’s erection in his fingers again.

“Christ, _no_ …!” No-one in the world could look as stunning as Jiyong did right now, thought Seunghyun, thoroughly besotted. His brother gave him a sour smile and wriggled backwards down his thighs, bending his inked neck to kiss the tip of Seunghyun’s cock before wrapping his lips around it. Seunghyun grabbed him and immediately felt Jiyong’s fingernails on the underside of his wrist; he yelped and let go, and with one satisfied sound Jiyong took him deeper, all the way into his throat. Seunghyun groaned – the younger man hadn’t forgotten _anything_.

“Is she as good at _this_?” Jiyong asked in a soft growl when he came up for air at last. Seunghyun shook his head feverishly. As a matter of fact Mina had evinced no interest in doing this for him at all, but it was hardly the time to mention it. Jiyong huffed, licked a final wet line up Seunghyun’s shaft, and straddled his hips again, holding the older man’s erection ready.

“…You’ll hurt yourself!” Seunghyun protested weakly. It had been so long, and Jiyong hadn’t spent half the time he ought to preparing. “Baby, please, let me…”

“I don’t care,” announced Jiyong, looking down at him avidly. “No more waiting! … _Oh_ , Tabi,” he murmured, sounding breathless as he let Seunghyun slowly enter him. Seunghyun was desperately trying to keep still; Jiyong was so tight he was afraid for him, but his brother just closed his eyes, bit his lip and sank down on him.

“ _Jiyong_ ,” said Seunghyun in a trembling voice; as with every time they were apart he had forgotten just how it felt to be united with Jiyong like this – how visceral it was, and how emotional at the same time. Now Jiyong seemed hungrier than ever; his brother had opened his eyes just enough that they were two gleaming slits of opal gazing down at him. Jiyong’s perfect face was flushed, his cock erect and his thighs quivering with the effort of controlling himself.

Wordlessly Jiyong grabbed Seunghyun’s left hand and intertwined their fingers, gripping Seunghyun so hard it hurt. He pressed his other hand to Seunghyun’s sternum and began to push himself up and down slowly. The older man’s lips parted on an involuntary moan, and Jiyong’s intense expression seemed to turn vulnerable.

“Tabi,” breathed Jiyong, fucking him slow and deep. “I missed you so much…! I missed _this_ …”

“…Me too,” Seunghyun assured him, disobediently raising his free hand to feel the familiar shape of Jiyong’s neck, his chest, his flat stomach. Jiyong grabbed it without stopping the rise and fall of his hips, raised it to his lips and took three fingers inside. It was as if they had a direct line to Seunghyun’s cock; he let out a delighted rumble that turned into a snarl of arousal as Jiyong bit his index finger hard.

“You’re still in trouble…!” Jiyong reminded him, leaning forward along his body to kiss him and then nip sharply at his lower lip. Seunghyun didn’t care much, not if _this_ was his punishment; he wrapped his arm around Jiyong’s waist and pushed up into him. Jiyong cried out, and Seunghyun darted a glance at his face to check if it was with pain or pleasure – he had just remembered how unprepared his brother was. But the smaller man set his jaw and began to ride him harder.

“Touch me!” commanded Jiyong, and Seunghyun was overjoyed to obey. He made sure Jiyong came before he did, though the incredible sound the younger man made as he climaxed over Seunghyun’s stomach made it a close call. Seunghyun kissed him, again and again, hands sweeping across his cropped hair, his smooth back and the firm curve of his buttocks. He held Jiyong in place and came inside him, the most intimate thing, one that he would never do with another person. Then he lay there, struggling to get his breath back while Jiyong relaxed in satisfaction above him.

“Don’t let me go,” said Jiyong urgently, as Seunghyun at last made a move to disentangle himself. He leaned his forehead against Seunghyun’s, and the older man felt a sudden pang of concern that he couldn’t make sense of. “Please.” He had lost all his anger, it seemed, all his control of the situation. Seunghyun tightened his arms around Jiyong until he was worried he might injure him, but Jiyong just sighed contentedly and relaxed again.

“Just hold me like this, Tabi,” Jiyong murmured. “It feels so good…”

And as it was no hardship for Seunghyun to embrace his brother, he did. Eventually he drifted off, despite the hardwood floor, lulled by the sweet sound of Jiyong’s breathing.

 

Once Jiyong started to get uncomfortable he woke Seunghyun up and took him to bed. The older man lay there looking at him with those big eyes, and Jiyong gazed back; he was half afraid Seunghyun would disappear if he closed his own. He had felt a pang of relief when he’d first seen him yesterday such as he had never experienced before; not even when his brother had returned from his own military service. It was as if everything was…all right again. Not that there was much wrong with his life, Jiyong told himself sharply. It just didn’t feel _whole_ without Seunghyun. He’d begun to discover that, up on the mountain.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t angry, and jealous – boy, was he jealous! He’d warned Seunghyun about that when his brother had first proposed the idea of keeping their father’s romantic plans in check. But he didn’t think Seunghyun had been prepared for the very real nature of Jiyong’s possessiveness. He didn’t think _he_ had, come to that. But seeing that beautiful woman in their home, her hand on Seunghyun’s shoulder and her lips on his cheek, had caused a fierce spear of misery deep in his chest. And when his brother had called her ‘baby’, Jiyong had been incensed. So silly; but that word belonged to _him_.

Jiyong forgot all this as they made love again after coffee, Seunghyun’s incredible mouth on his skin and his long fingers working their magic between his legs – he was sore, after that first impulsive fuck, but the bigger man was gentle with him. He wanted Seunghyun to imprint him with his body, his scent, the sound of his deep voice, so that Jiyong could carry it with him when he returned to base. He didn’t want to go back.

Seunghyun took another nap; Jiyong supposed he hadn’t got much sleep the night before, which he guessed was gratifying. The younger man lay there being annoying, touching his brother’s face, tracing his long eyelashes with his fingers. Seunghyun was so beautiful it was staggering. Jiyong kept pictures on his phone, of course, and spent much of his private time looking at them; but it wasn’t the kind of thing you wanted to be caught doing, and besides, it was nothing compared to the real Seunghyun.

He started as Seunghyun’s phone began to buzz. Jiyong ignored it for a while, then reached over the bigger man and grabbed it. _Mina_ , said the screen, and there was her picture. Fuck, she was good-looking. Jiyong wondered if that was the only reason he didn’t like her, or if some other instinct was telling him she was dangerous. In a moment of pique he tossed the phone to the other end of the big bed, where its buzzing was fainter. Seunghyun slept on, and eventually it stopped. Jiyong laid his head on his chest and smiled.

“…Phone,” mumbled Seunghyun fifteen minutes later, as it started up again. He fumbled for it, at last locating it at the foot of the bed. He shot Jiyong an off look. Jiyong scowled at him, hearing him sigh as he looked at the screen. “Quit throwing my shit around,” Seunghyun told him patiently.

“Quit talking to your _girlfriend_ with your brother in your bed,” muttered Jiyong mutinously as Seunghyun answered the phone.

“Hey,” said Seunghyun. “What’s up?” Jiyong flopped down among the covers with a huff. “No, I can’t today. Or tomorrow.” Seunghyun frowned. “Because Jiyong’s here,” he said. Jiyong smiled triumphantly and leaned across to kiss his neck. Seunghyun swatted him away half-heartedly, then wrapped an arm around him to hold him still. “Right,” continued Seunghyun, a touch acerbic, Jiyong thought. “I’ll call you Monday after work. Bye.” He hung up.

“You don’t have to go anywhere, right?” asked Jiyong anxiously. Deliberately, Seunghyun switched his phone off and threw it across the room, where it landed neatly on an armchair.

“Nowhere,” the older man promised. “The furthest I’m moving from you this weekend is to the door to collect sushi.”

“Good.” Jiyong kissed him earnestly.

“Fancy sharing a bath?” said Seunghyun, grinning. Jiyong caught his breath, then chuckled. He was going to be absolutely useless for drill on Wednesday.

Seunghyun gave him a massage while the bath was running, then scrubbed his short hair and washed him all over, teasing him inside and out until Jiyong was limp with pleasure. He thought it would be hours before he could come again, but he didn’t ever want Seunghyun to stop.

“So, how’re you getting on really?” asked Seunghyun eventually, reclining in the deep water with Jiyong in his lap. Jiyong rested his head on the bigger man’s shoulder.

“Hmm.”

“Difficult?” probed Seunghyun. “Boring? I told you, you could’ve got a fun job doing PR or something.” Jiyong knew his brother was concerned; and knowing Seunghyun was thinking about him was enough to dispel some of the minor annoyances of military life.

“It’s not hard,” said Jiyong airily, his fingers drawing patterns on Seunghyun’s forearm. “I might’ve pissed them off a bit at the boot camp ‘cos fans writing to me broke their whole server, nobody could get their emails. But I apologised and signed like a million autographs to make up for it! Actually, though, it’s not that different from being a trainee. Only they give you a bit more respect. Plus a gun.”

“You do look great in your uniform.” Seunghyun wanted to cheer him up; being a celebrity in that environment was probably a minefield at first. Jiyong slapped him and laughed, splashing water everywhere.

“Pervert.”

The weekend went on like that, and by the time the car came on Sunday night to take Jiyong back to base he was almost as happy as he’d been before this whole thing began. Almost.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t until the second visit months later that Seunghyun realised Jiyong and Mina didn’t just resent him spending time with each other; they _hated_ each other. He’d thought his girlfriend had been a little pissy when she’d called that first weekend Jiyong had been down. He’d refused to meet her, of course – who would do anything else with a naked superstar in their bed? For weeks after that she’d been a bit off. Maybe she was more sensitive than Seunghyun had given her credit for.

Jiyong had much better reason to resent her, but had been pretty restrained; so much so that Seunghyun had thought things might actually go smoothly until his brother came out of the Army and they could end this farce. Jiyong sometimes snipped about her in phone calls or letters, but nothing to give Seunghyun any real indication that there was a problem.

But in the week approaching Jiyong’s next visit Mina made her real feelings known, and it almost shocked Seunghyun that he hadn’t been able to read her better.

“I never really liked that kind of music,” said Mina one evening after he had excitedly told her about the visit, changing the channel a minute after one of Jiyong’s old songs came on. Seunghyun felt it like a personal insult that she wouldn’t want to watch his brother.

“What’re you talking about?” he asked, puzzled. “I’ve seen you dance your ass off to that song!”

“Mm. It’s different when you’re on the floor with a bunch of people. There’s just…something about that kind of voice that grates on me.”

“It suits him!” snapped Seunghyun, who had felt exactly the same way back when he and Jiyong had hated each other but now considered his brother’s high voice both adorable and erotic.

“Yeah,” said Mina pointedly. “It does.” And she went off to get ready for her party.

It was the first time Seunghyun had got a hint that she might seriously not like Jiyong. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter: Mina wasn’t a real girlfriend. The only reason she was in his life was to placate his father, and once Jiyong was home for good they would never have to see her again. But if this was how it was going to be for the next year…Seunghyun foresaw big problems ahead.

The night before Jiyong’s furlough began Mina called him to tell him they’d been invited by one of her seniors to a big party at some gallery.

“I told you I can’t see you the next few days,” Seunghyun told her firmly.

“Why not?!”

“Jiyong’s coming home.”

“So?” said Mina, in a challenging tone, and Seunghyun knew she looking for an argument as soon as his brother’s name came up. He was quite tempted to oblige her.

“So, I’m gonna be busy,” he replied.

“Every night?”

“Every day and every night.” Oh, would he ever! Seunghyun kept his tone level, even though he sensed her getting pissed on the other end of the line. He refused to rise to her. Mina huffed, but her voice cooled down.

“He’s got you wrapped round his little finger, hasn’t he,” she said sweetly. “Is it because he’s famous, or what? I actually want to know.”

“He’s my _brother_.” Seunghyun couldn’t see that any other explanation was required.

“And I’m your girlfriend.” Mina paused. “Supposedly.”

“So be understanding,” Seunghyun suggested. “I hardly ever see him; I hang out with you all the time. Whenever Jiyong is here,” he said flatly, “my time is his. And that’s that.”

She hung up on him, for the first time ever. Seunghyun just wished that he minded more.

 

Jiyong came home, driving straight to Seunghyun’s apartment. If anything he seemed even more desperately pleased to see his brother than he had before, wrapping his arms around Seunghyun’s neck and clinging to him for several long minutes before Seunghyun could draw back enough to even give him a kiss.

“You’re not seeing that woman?” asked Jiyong, as Seunghyun led him into the kitchen to be fed in between making out. The older man was doing some work on the apartment, but Jiyong didn’t even notice.

“Course not.” Seunghyun looped an arm around him. “You’re here.”

“Good,” said Jiyong vehemently. He looked guilty, but only a bit. “…I don’t like her.”

“Of course you don’t,” Seunghyun agreed, giving him a comforting squeeze. He sighed. “I don’t like her much myself, lately.”

“Only lately?” Jiyong said, sounding displeased. “I mean, I know it’s important that you spend time with her, and she’s goddamn gorgeous. But if you actually… It just makes it worse. Especially now, when I-” He cut himself off.

“…I know we both agreed to this,” ventured Seunghyun earnestly, dismayed by the anger and odd insecurity he could sense beneath the surface. It wasn’t like his brother to be this inarticulate. He turned Jiyong to face him, peering down at his beautiful features to try and gauge his mood. “But I can stop if you want. I can chuck her _right now_.” Jiyong took a sharp breath; then shook his head slowly. “I love you, Jiyong,” Seunghyun insisted. “If I’m making you unhappy I _have_ to do something about it!”

“That’ll have to do,” said Jiyong gloomily. “Knowing that you would do something. Thank you, Tabi. But…no. Remember what this is all _for_.” Seunghyun kissed the top of his head; Jiyong was quite right, and apparently more mature than him at the moment. “It’s for us,” his brother reminded him. “To keep Dad off your back, at least for a while… And if you split up with her so soon you know he’ll only go out and find you someone else! You have to make it look _real_.”

“I know. I just hate that you have to see it.”

“Believe me,” said Jiyong, with feeling, “I hate it too.”

After that visit Seunghyun geared himself up and prepared to inhabit a no-man’s-land between his girlfriend and his beloved brother for the foreseeable future. He didn’t know that any day now their Jealousy Era would be over forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I really like it when the bottom takes control bedroom-wise (this is quite a shift in dynamics for me). Gotta love a feisty dragon ;)
> 
> Also, is Seunghyun being a bastard? Even I can't tell if this plan is sensible or dumb ^^;


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everything goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: I'm posting this chapter earlier than usual because, although it's pivotal to many future events, I want to get it out of the way; it is undoubtedly the most miserable, depressing chapter in this whole miserable, depressing Book! Is it a coincidence that this chapter is number 13? Actually yes, but it is quite apt.  
> So please take a look at this heads-up before you read:
> 
> See those tags up there? The ones I warned about at the beginning of the fic? This chapter has _aaallll_ the bad tags. While there is no graphic description of anything, please be aware that it contains discussion of sensitive issues drawn from both fiction and real life. If you think the tagged topics will be distressing or distasteful to you, I urge you to _please_ skip this chapter; you can easily pick up the basics of what's been happening in the next chapter. 
> 
> I'm harping on this because at this point in my reading life I'm basically desensitized to any kind of content, as long as it's worked into a fictional setting and handled with care, but I know not everyone is like that and I don't want anyone to be upset.
> 
> On the plus side, we finally get some Daesung!

Seunghyun was in the office talking to an attorney about one of her North Korean clients when he got the call that would change his life.

“Sorry,” said the office secretary when he picked up the phone. “It’s urgent.”

“Who is it?” asked Seunghyun, trying not to lose his train of thought.

“A Sergeant Cho,” the secretary informed him. Seunghyun frowned, a sense of vague foreboding flicking on inside his head.

“Put him on.”

A brisk but steady military voice introduced itself as a staff sergeant with Jiyong’s unit – Seunghyun’s old base.

“What is it?” demanded Seunghyun warily. The Army _never_ called with good news. They never called at all. The foreboding was a tight clutch of worry in his chest now.

“Your brother has you down as his next of kin,” Cho confirmed. “Is that correct?”

“…Yes,” said Seunghyun, feeling slightly faint. He hadn’t known that, actually; he had put his father down on the forms when he was doing his service, and had assumed Jiyong would do the same. Next of kin… In this context they seemed the most terrifying three words in the world. “What’s happened?!”

“He’s been injured; he’s in the medical ward.” Seunghyun leaned his elbow on the table and exhaled shakily. Hurt. Not… _worse_. He could feel his visitor looking at him in concern.

“Is he all right? Is he going to be okay?!” Never in his life had he felt panic like this.

“He’ll be all right.” The Sergeant’s voice was brisk and clipped, very typical: no bedside manner. “It’s not life-threatening. But we’d like you to come out here.”

“What _happened_?”

“My superiors will talk to you in person,” said the soldier, deadpan. “When can you come?”

“Now.” Seunghyun was terrified. “Of course now.” He didn’t know if it was simple protocol that wouldn’t let the Sergeant tell him what had happened to his brother, or…or something else. An equipment malfunction so bad it was classified? An incident at the Armistice Line? With every scenario that flashed through his head it got worse.

“Then we’ll see you on base. You know the way.”

Seunghyun put the phone down; his hand was trembling. The attorney was staring at him.

“I have to go,” gasped Seunghyun. “Can you tell…someone?”

“Of course,” said the attorney, looking perturbed. And with that Seunghyun grabbed his keys and was gone.

 

* * *

 

 

The hours it took to get to his old base felt like days. Seunghyun tried to focus only on driving, his hands white on the steering wheel; anything to avoid his rising worry. In retrospect, he was damn lucky he didn’t crash.

He pulled up to the base and gave the guards his ID. They checked it out against a clipboard and waved him through. Seunghyun parked, slammed the door and made a beeline for the medical building.

“You can’t see him yet,” said the Black Cap on duty.

“Why not?!” ground out Seunghyun, making a tangible effort not to lose his temper; it was never a good idea with this type of soldier.

“Lieutenant needs to talk to you first.” The Sergeant yelled for an orderly, who led Seunghyun away to another building. Seunghyun glanced back anxiously as they went. Jiyong was in there, and something was wrong. He didn’t know what, and that made it worse. He was scared.

The Private knocked on an office door, and a familiar voice answered. He stepped through and saluted, Seunghyun on his heels, and there was Kim. For a moment Seunghyun was thrown back to his own service days, and instinctively he saluted too. Kim had always been his favourite officer. The older man nodded at him; he looked pleased, though he didn’t smile. As the orderly shut the door on them Seunghyun noticed a bit of grey hair and a few more scars on his old Sergeant – Lieutenant’s – face; Kim had always been sent on the most ‘adventurous’ patrols.

“It’s good to see you, son,” said Kim, advancing to give him a firm handshake. “I wish it was under different circumstances.”

“Please, Sir,” said Seunghyun immediately, “what’s wrong with Jiyong? What happened? Why can’t I see him?”

“You can visit him in a few minutes,” Kim reassured him. He gestured to a chair; Seunghyun shook his head. “The doctor can give you a better report of his injuries. He isn’t in any danger,” he continued, with a touch of sympathy that had been entirely absent from the other soldiers’ tones. “A couple of minor breaks. But…I wanted to talk to you first. Because you deserve to hear it from someone you know.”

“ _Tell me_.” The fear was back. Kim set his jaw, and looked him in the eye.

“Your brother wasn’t in an accident.”

“Then what?” demanded Seunghyun breathlessly.

“He was attacked.”

“ _What_?” Seunghyun didn’t understand.

“Yesterday morning,” the Lieutenant explained quietly, “when the cleaning detail opened the P.T. storage room…they found him. The doctor says he’d probably been there some hours.” Seunghyun gaped at him.

“Who the hell would attack Jiyong?!” he exclaimed incredulously. “He’s never been the argumentative type, he wouldn’t provoke a fight!” Actually, Seunghyun knew that wasn’t quite true; but his brother’s aggressive instincts had only ever been pointed at _him_. “And why was he left there all night?!”

“He was injured and exhausted,” said Kim, his mouth drawn thin. “Either he didn’t shout or he was too quiet for the guards on duty to hear him.” A band of dismay clutched at Seunghyun’s heart as he imagined it; he could feel his face getting hot. Kim was watching him carefully.

“Who did it?” Seunghyun repeated in a voice that was almost a snarl.

“We don’t know yet.” Kim held up a hand and Seunghyun paused; the man’s authority could still move him. “I haven’t finished.” Another pang of dismay.

“…What else?” Seunghyun braced himself. His body knew something bad was coming.

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit down, son?”

“Just tell me!” Seunghyun snapped. Kim clasped his hands behind his back, falling into a parade rest stance.

“You brother wasn’t simply attacked. He was assaulted.” Seunghyun’s eyes widened, because something in that tone…

“You don’t mean-”

“Yes.” Kim’s face stiffened, as if he didn’t want to say it but had no choice. “That’s what I mean. His injuries are mostly…related.”

Seunghyun reached out blindly and clutched at a shelf to steady himself. If he had thought he was feeling distraught before…this was something else. This was impossible.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you,” Kim said, sounding deeply uncomfortable and sympathetic at the same time. “But as his next of kin you need to know.”

“ _Why_?” asked Seunghyun in a whisper. The Lieutenant looked confused. “Why was he…” Seunghyun took an unsteady breath. “How could this _happen_? Who would do something so…” He felt sick. “Why didn’t anyone have his back?” he said suddenly, remembering his own years on this very base. There had been fights, sure, rivalries…but someone would always stand up with you.

There was a long pause.

“He…hasn’t had an easy time here,” said Kim eventually. He sighed. “You can’t measure your brother’s military experience by your own. You two are very different. I think…he would thrive better in another kind of post.”

“What are you talking about?” demanded Seunghyun, still reeling mentally; he knew that he hadn’t quite taken it in yet, and was dreading the moment he did.

“We’re not used to celebrities joining this unit,” said Kim seriously. “This isn’t one of the cushy city options, but it’s not famous like the Marines, either; we got a lot of publicity and nobody knew how to deal with it. People didn’t really know how to relate to him, you know? They couldn’t figure out why he was here. Half the boys were scared to approach him because they don’t know how to talk to a star, and the other half resented him for it.”

“My brother is a sweet kid, Sir,” Seunghyun cut in. “I don’t believe he’d do the jerk celeb act!”

“…No,” said the Lieutenant. “He’s a nice boy and he works hard. Tries to fit in. But the other guys have had trouble telling the real person from the TV idol. It doesn’t help with how finicky he is.” Kim looked thoughtful. “Doesn’t like getting dirty, has those elegant little gestures, like he’s so careful about touching everything. You know? Never complains, he just looks worried. It makes him stand out more.”

“And so?!”

“He’s been alone a lot. Oh, he’s made a few friends – the kind who like the idea of being mates with a celebrity, you get me? – and some of the men who remembered you looked out for him; but, well, it’s as though he’s the one making all the effort. Those aren’t the kind of friendships you can lean on.”

“And no officers did anything about this.” Seunghyun felt ill. Kim spread his hands helplessly.

“It never helps. If we get involved it looks like we’re giving him special treatment; then the men wouldn’t just be unsure of him, they’d actively dislike him and pick on him.”

“…As opposed to what’s happened to him!” Seunghyun wanted to hit someone, and he wanted to cry. Kim wisely took a subtle step out of his space. “I can’t…this just can’t…”

“Go see him, son,” Kim advised. “The doctors will tell you more about his condition. And then…well, I’ll do what I can to answer your questions.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me,” repeated Seunghyun in a low voice. The military doctor offered him a stool; they were in a curtained-off office at one end of the ward. It was just how Seunghyun remembered it from when he had been on cleaning detail: functional and no-frills. He shook his head and stayed on his feet; if he sat down he thought he would break down.

“You’re his next of kin,” confirmed the medic, looking at a chart. Seunghyun didn’t remember him. “Well. Luckily there’s nothing life-threatening, physically. He has two cracked ribs; a badly sprained ankle, but that will clear up. Severe bruising on his face, ribcage, legs; some abrasions on his wrists.”

Seunghyun felt faint as the litany continued; he stared very hard at the edge of the desk where the wood was cracked, and tried not to picture anything else. The doctor was speaking kindly but calmly, as if this was the result of a simple accident. If it had been an accident, thought Seunghyun, incensed, you would feel bad for whoever it had happened to; you’d say ‘oh, how unlucky!’, and feel relieved it hadn’t been worse. But this! Calm was not even close to appropriate. _Someone had done this to his brother_.

“What else?” he said harshly. He had to hear it. So that he’d know exactly how to punish whoever was responsible. The doctor looked at him, and Seunghyun wondered if the man would have admitted the information if he hadn’t been pressed – if Kim hadn’t made him.

“…There’s evidence of multiple instances of sexual assault,” stated the medic. Seunghyun knew about that kind of distancing language, but wasn’t sure if the clinical words were to spare Seunghyun’s feelings or the man’s own. Either way it hurt so much he had to grit his teeth.

“Multiple?” he said weakly.

“We don’t have the test results,” explained the doctor, looking at the chart, “but I think we can assume more than one assailant.”

“I…” Seunghyun felt that urge to punch someone, anyone. Every word the man said painted a more horrific picture. “What does Jiyong say?” he demanded. “He…he is conscious, right?”

“He was earlier. He told the Lieutenant he doesn’t remember anything. That’s entirely possible: he was hit in the head at least once. If he does know, he doesn’t want to talk.”

“Let me see him,” Seunghyun said in a rush. He was starting to feel short of breath, which he thought would become a full-blown panic attack if he didn’t see Jiyong now.

“You asked,” said the doctor neutrally, and pulled back the curtain to lead him down the ward. “Now you know, it’s best that you don’t push him about it until he feels better.”

“ _Better_?” snarled Seunghyun. “When do you imagine he’ll feel better?! Not until you get him off this damn mountain, anyway!”

“That’s up to my superiors,” said the doctor impassively. “Go ahead now. Down at the end. You can have half an hour, and then you’ll have to let him sleep.”

As Seunghyun opened the curtain he saw his hand was shaking; by a massive effort of will he forced it to stop. He had to be strong. His brother was lying quietly, his eyes closed. Seunghyun clung to the curtain and stared at him, for a minute unable to move.

Jiyong’s fine-boned, perfect face was a mass of black bruises down the left side, as though he had been hit there repeatedly or shoved against something hard. It was scratched too, from some rough surface. His wrists were bandaged, and Seunghyun could see more beneath his pyjama shirt. There was an expression of contained pain riding his features, even in his sleep. Seunghyun stood there, biting his tongue, and tried not to scream.

Then Jiyong’s eyes opened.

 

Jiyong hadn’t been asleep. He had heard Seunghyun come in; he’d just been afraid to meet his eyes. He didn’t understand this feeling. Since he’d regained consciousness after…afterwards, he had wanted his big brother with him. He’d been unable to sleep for he didn’t know how many hours now – it felt like days – and the only recognisable emotion he’d had in that time was longing for Seunghyun. Now he was here; and Jiyong didn’t dare look at him for fear of what he’d see in his face.

When at last he did, the sight of Seunghyun was such a relief he wanted to throw himself into his arms and beg him never to leave him alone again. He wouldn’t – he refused to look so weak.

“Jiyong,” whispered Seunghyun, still standing by the foot of the bed. Jiyong stretched out his hand; his arm ached, but he needed someone familiar beside him. Seunghyun blinked hard, then crossed to his side and took his hand gently. He stared at Jiyong from close range, huge eyes flickering over his face – Jiyong had looked in the mirror, he’d made the orderly bring one, and he knew what he looked like – then sat down heavily on the stool by the bed as if his legs wouldn’t support him anymore.

“…Sorry I scared you, Tabi,” Jiyong murmured. His throat was starting to hurt, along with the rest of him; he’d been on painkillers for the last twenty-four hours, floating in a strange fog, but now they were wearing off. Seunghyun squeezed his hand convulsively, and Jiyong hid his flinch because he didn’t want the older man to let go.

“Jiyong,” said Seunghyun again, sounding quite helpless. “Oh, my baby…”

“I’m all right,” Jiyong reassured him, and to his surprise felt tears spill silently over his eyelashes and down his bruised face. He hadn’t felt like he was about to cry; it was as though there was a short circuit between his brain and his body. Maybe that was just as well. He looked up at Seunghyun serenely, wondering why he couldn’t stop.

Seunghyun was biting his lip so hard Jiyong was worried it might start bleeding.

“…You won’t tell Dad what happened, will you?” said Jiyong urgently. “That’s why I put you down as next of kin. I don’t want to worry him about anything.” Seunghyun leaned down and kissed his hand, his shoulders shaking, before he took a deep breath and went still. Jiyong wanted his brother to pull himself together, to take charge; it was frightening to see him at a loss. “Please, Tabi,” he begged.

“I won’t,” Seunghyun said eventually, sniffing. “Not if you don’t want me to. Just…if you can…”

“I don’t remember anything,” said Jiyong quickly. Seunghyun exhaled shakily. “I only know what they told me. I guess I got hit in the head.”

“No idea?” asked Seunghyun hesitantly. “…No clue who it might have been?” He looked distraught; Jiyong wondered what would happen if they ever did find out who had attacked him. He shook his head vaguely; the pain was becoming a distraction. “What did the doctors tell you?”

“Not much. Just that I’m going to be okay… And that there was more than one person; I think I knew that, but they said I’d been blindfolded, so…” He held out his arm to show the square of gauze. “They took a bunch of blood and stuff to send down to the hospital. The lab’s running tests, I think.”

“For what? DNA?”

“For everything,” said Jiyong bleakly. “Apparently none of them used…” He looked away. “Well.”

When he glanced back, Seunghyun looked like he wanted to throw up. Jiyong had, when they told him. There’d been a lot of that, the first few hours after he woke up. Now he was trying not to think about it; if something bad came to light he would deal with it later. He was holding himself together pretty well, he thought; but if anything else happened he wasn’t sure if his mind could cope with it.

Seunghyun kissed his fingers again. It felt like an apology, though Jiyong couldn’t think for what. He was glad his brother didn’t seem disgusted, at least: that he wasn’t too put off to touch him. Jiyong’s wrist was sore, both of them. He supposed he had been tied up.

“What can I do to _help_ you?” asked Seunghyun. “I know…I know I can’t stop it hurting. But I’ll do anything.”

“Just be here,” Jiyong murmured, shutting his eyes for a moment. He was so tired, but he wasn’t keen on losing consciousness again. It felt…dangerous. “Talk to me. That’s all I need.”

“You mean I _can’t_ do anything,” said Seunghyun bitterly. Jiyong felt the older man’s hand come to rest lightly on his head, well away from his bruises. Seunghyun began to stroke the short fuzz of his hair, and when he spoke it seemed to Jiyong he was talking to himself. “I’m useless; you need _proper_ help, away from here. There’s only one thing I’m good for…and unless we can find out who did this…”

“I tried to remember.” Jiyong glanced up at him. Seunghyun looked absolutely devastated, but Jiyong knew he wouldn’t ask him again to relive it; he would tiptoe around Jiyong, treat him like china. Seunghyun would do anything to avoid hurting him. Jiyong was deeply grateful for that; he didn’t _want_ to remember. But if it would take that heartbroken look off his brother’s face, he was willing to try.

“I…” he ventured, a few frustrating, blank and ominous minutes later. “I’m not sure. When I think back all I can see is dark. I remember getting changed after P.T., and then…dark.” He took a shuddering breath. That blankness was as scary as anything his imagination might conjure up.

“Don’t try, baby,” said Seunghyun, his voice strained. “I didn’t mean you to upset yourself!”

“But…” Jiyong groped for something, a vague flash of memory that had slipped away soon after he had come round in the hospital. “There was something. I think…there was a sound? Or maybe a smell.”

“A sound?” Seunghyun’s beautiful eyes sharpened with interest. Jiyong wanted so badly to please him. He furrowed his eyebrows and reached for it.

“…I don’t know what it is,” he confessed. “I _can’t remember_.” And burst into tears again.

“It’s all right!” insisted Seunghyun, jumping up from his stool to lean over Jiyong’s bed and rest his forehead against the smaller man’s. “It doesn’t matter, Jiyong, only you matter, I’m sorry, don’t think anymore! Please…”

Jiyong cried exhaustedly, as much in exasperation as anything else. He could feel Seunghyun’s hands on his face, and it hurt. But he didn’t mind.

“All right,” came a jarringly calm voice, breaking in on Jiyong’s mounting hysteria. Doctor Park slid back the curtain smoothly, an orderly behind him. “End of visiting hours. It’s time for your medication.” Seunghyun looked like he was about to start arguing indignantly, but Jiyong put a hand on his wrist. He was so tired, and the pain in his ribs and elsewhere was getting out of control.

“It’s okay, Tabi,” he said, swallowing down his tears with difficulty. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? And I’ll…I’ll try and remember in the meantime.” Seunghyun gave him a sick, guilty look. But he squeezed Jiyong’s hand and nodded.

“Are you going to have him moved down to a proper hospital or not?” he asked point-blank. Jiyong pricked up his ears; he’d like that, he thought. Not knowing who had assaulted him, knowing they might be around anywhere…well, that wasn’t helping his sleep.

“It depends on his condition.” Park looked implacable. “And on whether the top of the command chain signs off if we ask.” He gave Jiyong a cautious look, not unsympathetic. “It’s not…simple.”

Jiyong didn’t know what that meant, and he was too weary to ask. He felt Seunghyun’s mood darken even further, but couldn’t stand any more bad news. Reluctantly he let go of his brother’s hand.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Seunghyun promised. “As soon as I’m allowed.”

Jiyong almost sighed with relief when they all left. He stared up at the ceiling, the painkillers slowly numbing him all over, and tried not to think.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun found his lodgings somehow. After leaving Jiyong he’d spoken to Kim again – the Lieutenant was strangely reticent about what would happen next, and Seunghyun wondered who was really in control of the situation. He couldn’t focus enough to get it out of him. He’d left his contact details with Kim’s adjunct, then made his way off the mountain to the closest hotel, a family affair that made a sparse living putting up visitors to the base. He picked up a bottle of liquor on the way – and a second one just in case. He hadn’t wanted to get drunk this badly since he was a teenager.

He shut himself up in his room, looking out over the mountains. Then he settled down to the task of blaming himself.

Jiyong had looked worse than he had imagined, and more beautiful than ever in comparison with his horrible injuries. It had added a poignancy to Seunghyun’s horror, and Jiyong’s strange vacillation between calm and tears had scared him even worse. But added to this crushing awfulness was what Kim had said to him: that this had happened because Jiyong was alone.

Seunghyun was disgusted at himself for not seeing it. Jiyong had wanted to follow in his family’s footsteps, and joined their old unit in the expectation of a fulfilling experience. Seunghyun had assumed he was getting one, and hadn’t bothered reading the signs to the contrary. Whenever he wrote, and the few times they saw each other, Jiyong had told him how lonely he was. Seunghyun, in his ignorance, had taken that to mean the same kind of loneliness he himself had experienced: for him, ‘lonely’ had meant ‘I miss you’; he had still had friends and people he could rely on. But for Jiyong, he now realised – after Kim had _told_ him – it meant something much more fundamental: isolation. That was what had made this terrible thing possible, and Seunghyun had missed it – had missed what his brother was trying to tell him all these months. Jiyong must have been so unhappy, all this time…and now this! And Seunghyun was absolutely certain that it was _his fault_.

All Seunghyun had to cling to was the possibility that he could help get justice for Jiyong. But without knowing who was responsible, how could that happen? If Jiyong couldn’t remember, how could Seunghyun find out? For the first time in his life he found himself torn between his keen sense of the law, his faith that it could solve everything if you just applied it correctly; and an overwhelming urge to get revenge, whatever it took; to cause someone devastating harm for daring to hurt his brother.

But it didn’t matter either way, not now. Seunghyun couldn’t do _anything_. He was useless, whatever Jiyong said. What Jiyong needed was proper care and a professional counsellor, far away from this damn unit. He didn’t need a hysterical older brother who made him cry and forced him to recall an experience so traumatic his brain had blocked it out. Seunghyun took another long drink. It made his headache worse, but he didn’t stop. Like Jiyong he didn’t want to think about anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong struggled awake with the awareness that there was someone at his bedside. He was still woozy from the painkillers, but his body was in panic mode and had slammed him back into consciousness.

“It’s okay,” said Park – he was always on duty, it felt like. Jiyong relaxed; he didn’t mind the doctor, who didn’t touch him if he didn’t have to; the man seemed to recognise that it upset him.

“What is it?” asked Jiyong blearily. “Is my brother back?”

“Listen,” Park told him, sitting down beside him. “I’ve got some news, and I need you to stay calm. Can you do that for me?”

“I…yes?” Jiyong felt himself tense up. Had they found his attackers? He almost didn’t want to know.

“Your brother’s in hospital,” the doctor said, without any more preamble. “Down in the town.”

“What?” Jiyong said dumbly. He blinked, and struggled to sit up.

“The guest house called the base a couple of hours ago. They found your brother totally out of it; drink and sleeping pills, they think.” Jiyong sat and stared at him, unable to react. His brain didn’t seem to be up to speed. “So they called an ambulance,” Park continued. He beckoned to Jiyong. “Look at me. Eyes open wide.” He whipped his penlight out and shone it in Jiyong’s eyes, checking his pupils. “Are you following me, Private?”

“…Yes.”

“He’s in the ICU,” Park told him. “When I called the hospital they had him on a respirator.”

“I…” Jiyong felt the hair stand up on his arms. “He’s gonna be okay, right?” he asked stupidly, his voice catching.

“He’s unconscious, but they hope so.” Park looked calm and confident, but that was his job; wouldn’t he tell Jiyong everything was okay even if it wasn’t? Jiyong felt panic clutch at his heart. “Who’s his next of kin?” inquired the doctor. “I should let them know.”

“Me,” said Jiyong immediately. Park shook his head calmingly.

“I mean someone who can get to him immediately. What about your parents?”

“…Our dad,” said Jiyong faintly. His heart was skittering unevenly, and he was starting to feel short of breath. “But I can get to him immediately! You can get me permission, right? I’m fine, I can go right now if you’ll get them to give me leave!”

“You’re not fine,” Park retorted. “Your body’s suffered severe trauma.”

“Please,” begged Jiyong. “If Tabi’s…” He swallowed hard, gasping for breath.

“Look at you.” Park indicated Jiyong’s hands; they were shaking. “You’re not going anywhere today. I’m giving you a pill. Lie down.”

“No!” Jiyong sat up straighter, ignoring the sharp pain in his ribs. “I have to see him! At least speak to Lieutenant Kim, he knows my brother, he’ll let me go!”

“I will,” said the doctor soothingly. “If you’ll take your medicine.” Jiyong nodded frantically, willing to do anything if it would get him to Seunghyun’s side. What had happened?! He heard himself panting, felt Park’s hand supportive on his back as the panic flooded him. Then, for the third time in as many days, he felt nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

A full day later Jiyong was exhausted with arguing, in pain and almost frantic, when he had a visitor. The youngish man – big nose, small eyes – breezed past the orderlies and stuck his hand in Jiyong’s direction with a bright smile, but dropped it as soon as he flinched.

“Sorry,” he said, not looking offended.

“…Who are you?” asked Jiyong shakily. He didn’t feel equal to talking with a stranger right now, not with Seunghyun where he was. His visitor smiled wider.

“I’m your lawyer.” Jiyong gave him a distrustful glance; what lawyer? He wasn’t from YG, the younger man was sure of that. What if he was a journalist? He pursed his lips worriedly. “Your brother hired me,” the man informed him, fishing in his jacket pocket and handing Jiyong a card. “He was my junior in postgrad. Kang Daesung,” he said, belatedly introducing himself.

“Hired you when?” managed Jiyong, struggling to sit up straighter; Daesung carefully avoided helping him. “What for? Is he awake?!”

“I got a call the night before last.” The other man frowned. “Seunghyun, and he sounded…well. Strange. Not in control. And that boy was _always_ in control.” Jiyong blanched; two nights ago. Seunghyun must have spoken to this guy right before…whatever happened. “He was adamant,” continued Daesung. “He wanted to engage me for you right then. I’m a military law specialist,” he added.

“…Did he say why?” asked Jiyong quietly. He could feel the shameful burn in his face.

“Yes.” Daesung looked completely neutral about it, which oddly enough was a comfort. Jiyong supposed he really was a professional. “I planned to call you and then come down in a couple of days to get the next steps straightened out with your superiors. But when I did call the head nurse here told me what had happened, so I rushed out. Your brother’s not awake yet, but I phoned the hospital; your father’s there.”

Jiyong looked at him more closely; the man did seem tired. He thought desperately for a minute, and decided to trust him. What else could he do?

“Can you help me?” he asked quickly, pursing his lips against the pain as he leaned forward.

“That’s my job.” Daesung pulled up a plastic chair and gave him another smile; it seemed to be his default expression. “What do you need?”

“I have to see my brother,” Jiyong told him fiercely. “I’ve been asking them and _asking_ , and they won’t give me an answer! I need to see him _now_.”

“Not a problem. I’ll have you transferred to the civilian hospital. It’s not so unusual with certain types of injury, and the unit will probably be quite compliant about it if I lean on them; you could make things very difficult for them.”

“And…” Jiyong bit his lip, relieved enough that he’d be with Seunghyun that he could finally return to his own problems. “I have to keep this quiet: all of it, as much as possible. But I don’t know what I should do! You know what I do for a living, right?”

“Oh yes.”

“My manager needs to know what’s happening. The company ought to do damage limitation and…oh, keep the press out of the way, I don’t know. But…”

“Go on,” said Daesung calmly.

“…I don’t want to tell him. Why I’m really here.” Jiyong felt a sob rise in his throat, and swallowed it down stubbornly. “I know he needs to know, I just…can’t. So can you?” He hated how pathetic he must sound right now; how much the victim.

“I can,” the lawyer assured him. If he was feeling overwhelmed by what Seunghyun had given him to deal with, he wasn’t showing it. His expression was more like he was facing an interesting challenge. Jiyong had seen the same look on his brother’s face when he was starting a new fascinating case.

Seunghyun. _That_ was what mattered, not his company or his career!

“Please.” He sat up straighter. “Get me out of here. I _have_ to see Tabi.”

“You sound just like him – always talking about you, he was.” Daesung stood up. “He’s been a good friend to me. If you’re what he needs to get through this, I’ll have you by his side in twelve hours.”

 

* * *

 

 

In fact it was only ten before Jiyong was being settled in a private room a few floors from where his brother lay in the ICU. It was still too long. Daesung accompanied him, reassuring him constantly about the security and what his Sergeant would say and what he had told his manager. Jiyong knew he was being panicky and probably irritating, but he couldn’t seem to help it. The Army doctors had made him come in a wheelchair, which he hated. Now he swung himself out of bed and reached for the crutches. He hurt all over.

“You’re meant to be resting!” exclaimed the nurse who had just poked her head round the door. She was in her forties, pretty, and almost unflustered at dealing with an idol.

“I have to go see my brother,” Jiyong said, starting to pant with the effort of moving. A thought struck him. “…But I don’t know where he is.”

“Did he come to visit you?” The nurse came in and began attempting to shoo him back to bed. Jiyong shook his head.

“No…no, he’s a patient.” A miserable spasm tugged his lips downwards. “He’s…unconscious. In the ICU somewhere, I guess.”

“Poor thing!” She had backed Jiyong up to the bed now, and he sat on it with a wince because it was too hard to both balance and stay out of her space. “I’ll find out for you. See if we can get you a visit. What’s his name?”

Jiyong gave the nurse Seunghyun’s details, and she went off to look in the database. Jiyong sat there trying to get his breath back; his ribs were aching fiercely and his face throbbed from talking. No doubt she was right, he shouldn’t be out of bed. But he had got this far, and he didn’t plan on stopping until he was with Seunghyun again.

She returned ten minutes later, a new look of sympathy in her face. She must have read Seunghyun’s file, and probably his, too.

“In you get,” she ordered, nodding to the wheelchair she was pushing. “He’s still not responding much, but he’s stable. If you promise to take it easy I’ll let you visit for a bit.”

Jiyong nodded quickly and lowered himself into the chair. He kept his head down while she pushed him through the corridors; the thought of anyone recognising him like this was unbearable.

At last they arrived at Seunghyun’s door. Jiyong gestured for the nurse to stop outside.

“Your mother’s already with him,” she mentioned.

“ _His_ mother,” said Jiyong in a low voice, feeling himself tense up, which also hurt. It made sense; of course she would be here. No doubt their father was around too; maybe he was up at Jiyong’s room looking for him right now. Daesung had told him Jiyong had been in the way of an equipment malfunction during maintenance; a routine mistake. He had still been horrified, doubly because it came on top of his other son’s apparent overdose.

“Are you ready, sweetie?” came the nurse’s voice. Jiyong came back to himself and nodded mutely. “Press the call button when you want to go back to bed.” She opened the door, and let him wheel himself in.

Jiyong looked his brother’s mother in the face for the first time in years, and felt the defensive discomfort that always came when he thought of her. For a minute she stared at him blankly; then her face changed, and he realised she had only just recognised him. Did he look that awful? Jiyong wondered. Her eyes catalogued his wheelchair and his battered face, and her lips tightened. Sympathy? Jiyong thought not.

“Oh, my. Have you been in a fight?” was the first thing she said. “How did you end up here?” As on the other rare occasions they had spoken directly, she wasn’t overtly rude; she was cruel in the way only a woman could be. Jiyong was pretty good at it himself, but he couldn’t act like that with her. While he thought he might hate her – he was certainly afraid of her influence – she was Seunghyun’s beloved mother.

“No, Ma’am,” said Jiyong quietly. “Equipment failure.” She kept looking at him. He suddenly felt far too vulnerable in the chair, so he grit his teeth and got to his feet. He found himself swaying unsteadily when he got there. She just looked more convinced that he had been on the losing end of a punch-up.

“There’s not a lot of point you being here.” Seunghyun’s mother was twisting a handkerchief in her slim hands, and as he approached Jiyong saw she had been crying. They had that in common, at least. “He’s been…asleep…for two days.”

Jiyong sucked in a breath at the sound of her misery; it made his own want to overflow.

“…I came all the way from the base to see him,” he told her politely. “I can’t leave. Not ‘til I know he’ll be okay.”

“Are you signed in here too?” she asked. “Your father can come and get you if…when…something changes.” Christ, she frightened Jiyong. He really hadn’t changed much since he was twelve, he realised.

“No.” He set his jaw as her eyes narrowed. “I’ll stay here.”

“The doctors don’t want too many people in here,” she said. Her voice never lost its civil tone. “…And you’re the least connected to him.”

Jiyong felt that like a blow to the chest. Whatever she could have said to him, he had never expected that. How could she think it?! Then he remembered that to her he and Seunghyun were just half-brothers, former enemies, and now inappropriate friends. And he couldn’t break the illusion. That hurt worse than anything.

“He’s my brother,” he said, trying to keep his voice firm; women like her could sense fear, he was convinced of it. “I love him. He’d want me to be here.”

“And you know best what he wants?” she replied, sounding almost as offended as he was.

Jiyong bravely ignored that; he had reached Seunghyun’s bed. He looked down at his brother and felt the tears spring helplessly to his eyes and spill silently over his lashes. Seunghyun was on his back, motionless, paler than Jiyong had ever seen him. There were dark circles under his eyes and an IV needle in the back of his hand. He wasn’t wearing a mask so he must be breathing on his own now; but he looked terrifyingly absent. And Jiyong knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that this was his fault.

Abruptly he couldn’t stand. He sank down on the edge of the bed, gazing at Seunghyun’s still, beautiful face.

“Don’t sit there!” came Seunghyun’s mother’s voice, as if shocked that anyone could be so ill-mannered. “You’ll jog him.” Jiyong barely heard her.

“Tabi,” he whispered. No reaction. “Can you hear me?”

“That doesn’t do anything,” she snapped. “We’ve been talking to him for hours.”

“…Please wake up,” Jiyong continued, ignoring her. “I really need you. I won’t upset you any more, I promise! I…” Seunghyun’s pale features remained immobile. Jiyong wasn’t about to give up that easily, and was willing to try anything. So he let himself burst into tears, groping blindly for Seunghyun’s lax hand – it was bruised, the knuckles raw. He’d been holding himself back, trying to be strong, and it was a great relief to cry properly. Seunghyun’s fingers were cool in his but not cold.

When Jiyong’s harsh sobs started to die down he opened his eyes and focused on his brother again. Did Seunghyun look any different? Jiyong could sense his mother glaring at them from her chair, and she hadn’t reacted. So maybe he was imagining it. Jiyong went to follow his next instinct.

“Wake up, Tabi,” he ordered in a low hiss, squeezing Seunghyun’s hand hard. “I don’t know what you were playing at, when I need you so much!” He raised his brother’s hand to his lips, just as Seunghyun had kissed him only a few days earlier, before this… “I need you to look after me,” he whispered severely. “So wake up! And don’t you _dare_ pull this shit on me again. Do you hear me?” he demanded, leaning down to speak into Seunghyun’s ear. Then he jumped as a hand grasped his shoulder.

“Enough!” said Seunghyun’s mother, her hand painful on one of Jiyong’s deep bruises. “How can you be so selfish?! When he’s-” Her voice cut off.

Jiyong gasped as he felt more pressure; but this time it was on his fingers, a slight press that drew his attention back to Seunghyun with a snap. His heart rose in his mouth: Seunghyun’s eyes were opening.

“Tabi!” he cried hoarsely, and Seunghyun’s mother exclaimed behind him. Her grip tightened, hurting him. Seunghyun’s lashes fluttered, then opened again. “Can you hear me?!”

Seunghyun blinked at him blankly. Then his pupils contracted and they made eye contact. Seunghyun nodded, but winced as if the movement made him dizzy.

“You know who I am?” said Jiyong, suddenly breathless, and Seunghyun nodded again.

“…baby. Jiyong.” His voice sounded weak as a kitten’s. His mother was hovering behind Jiyong’s shoulder, as if she longed to knock him out of the way but was too afraid; it was so clearly his little brother’s presence that had brought Seunghyun back to awareness. Jiyong could hear her sobs.

Jiyong started crying again too, this time with relief. Seunghyun tried to lift his hand and frowned when he couldn’t find the energy.

“Come here,” he mouthed. Jiyong leaned over him carefully, ribs screaming. “Kiss me.” Jiyong squeezed his hand and bent lower to kiss him lingeringly on the forehead. Seunghyun sighed exhaustedly. “…Thank God you’re here.” Jiyong sensed Seunghyun’s mother stiffen, presumably at the blasphemous phrase, but she soon began weeping again.

“It’s not just me,” Jiyong admitted, because he was hardly in a position to keep his brother to himself like he wanted. “Dad and your mom are here too.” Seunghyun nodded, but didn’t ask about them.

“What happened? …Are _you_ all right?” the older man asked. Jiyong was astonished, but it was so like Seunghyun to worry himself to distraction over his brother before he paid any attention to himself. “Your poor face…” continued Seunghyun, sounding somewhat lightheaded now. Jiyong reached out and pressed the call button hurriedly; the doctors should be here already. But when footsteps approached Jiyong saw it was their father, looking more dishevelled than he had ever seen him. He and Seunghyun’s mother nodded briefly at each other before their father stepped rapidly over and wrapped an arm around Jiyong, who suppressed a whimper as more pain hit him.

“Here you are!” their father announced with relief. “Thank goodness it wasn’t worse. And you’re-” He looked away from Jiyong, and noticed Seunghyun was awake. For a moment Jiyong thought their father was going to cry too – the thought was strangely frightening – but he just let out a harsh sigh and set his hand over both his sons’. Jiyong closed his eyes, and silently thanked whoever was listening. The two most important people in the world, and here they were with him, alive if not well. It made what had happened to him seem, not _better_ , just less…everything.

After that the room became a confusion of consultants and nurses and people gathered round Seunghyun doing things to him. Jiyong was removed from the bed and returned unceremoniously to his wheelchair. Seunghyun seemed too distracted to know what was going on anymore, which Jiyong could well understand; he was exhausted too, from the pain and the emotional rollercoaster of the last few days. He found he didn’t even have the strength to complain when they took him back to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On a slightly happy(?) note, if you read this you have now made it through the most miserable part of this fic; it's all (gradually) uphill from here! To be honest I was debating whether to include it; but the events of this chapter are so key to their character development and the plot from here on in that I couldn't really change it at this point. So I just tried not to describe it in lurid detail.
> 
> It should go without saying that this fic does not reflect the real Jiyong and Seunghyun's actual experience of military service; of course I wish them all the best and am delighted to see that, despite past difficulties, both of them now appear to be thriving in their respective posts. Fingers crossed they can both finish happy and healthy!


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hospitals and home.

The next day Jiyong used his charms – which weren’t exactly on top form, but nevertheless – to persuade the duty nurses to let him see Seunghyun as soon as he was done eating breakfast and having his bandages checked. It couldn’t come early enough; Jiyong hadn’t slept anyway, had just lain there alone and anxious until morning.

When he arrived at Seunghyun’s room, on crutches this time, to his relief he saw it was only his father there, who woke up when he hobbled in.

“He’s asleep,” said their father, getting to his feet to help Jiyong into a chair. Sitting down was still very uncomfortable for the younger man, but he wasn’t about to say so. “I mean properly asleep.”

“Will he be all right?” asked Jiyong. He wanted to go over and look at Seunghyun, wanted to find out exactly what had happened and what his brother needed from him.

“Yes,” said their father firmly. He frowned, a bewildered expression that Jiyong had last seen when he’d announced he wanted to become an idol. “Although…there were pills involved. So he’ll need a psychiatric evaluation too.” Jiyong cringed inwardly; he’d been told he would have to go through the exact same thing, and probably mandatory counselling for who knew how long. Looked like both of them would be at the mercy of a shrink.

“Do you know anything about this?” Their father didn’t sound accusing, just perplexed. Jiyong shook his head and immediately felt guilty. “He was down here visiting you, wasn’t he,” the older man continued. “After your accident.” He brushed his hand very gently across Jiyong’s blackened temple. Jiyong wanted to cry again; it was years since his father had comforted him like he was a kid. The other man’s attention was full on him now, gaze moving carefully over his face as if he wasn’t sure how to interpret his injuries. “What _exactly_ happened?”

“It was one of the big generators,” Jiyong said. He had been rehearsing this story, although he had no idea if it would stick or if his unit would back him up. “We were doing emergency blackout drill and turned out one of the parts was loose. It kicked back without any warning and knocked two of us over the railing.” His father was frowning; probably trying to work out where to assign blame. “It wasn’t far to fall,” admitted Jiyong, “but it was onto concrete. My teammate was mostly okay, but I landed slap on my face. Also my ribs and my legs, but it’s not so bad.”

Their father looked at him a minute longer. Then he nodded. Jiyong felt a strong disgust at himself; he was evidently a natural born liar. But at the same time came relief.

“Who was responsible for your team?” the older man demanded, sounding like the lawyer he was. “The military should be accountable for your injuries. Why did you call your brother before you called me?”

“It’s all right, Dad,” lied Jiyong. “Tabi’s friend is an expert; he’s on it. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’ll be dealt with, I’m sure. But I just want it all to go away; some big wrangle with the Army isn’t gonna help me at YG.”

“You think too much of them,” his father said earnestly. Jiyong opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again when he heard Seunghyun say his name. He jumped to his feet – or tried, at least – and walked as quickly as he could to his bedside. Seunghyun gazed up at him, still looking pale and ill but much more with it than the night before. His brother smiled.

“Sit,” he said in a feeble version of his deep voice.

“I’m not allowed on your bed,” Jiyong explained, smiling back idiotically. “The nurses told me off.”

“Sit,” insisted Seunghyun, so Jiyong did. Their father was watching from the other side of the room, relief and satisfaction on his tired face. “Kiss,” ordered Seunghyun quietly.

“Dad’s here,” Jiyong explained in a murmur.

“Oh.” Seunghyun reached for his hand instead. “You doing okay, baby?”

“I should be asking you that!” Jiyong exclaimed, caressing Seunghyun’s injured fingers subtly with his thumb. “I was so scared, Tabi! And your _hand_ …”

“I think I punched a wall.” The bigger man frowned at the split across his knuckles. “At least, I hope it was that and not a person.”

“Seunghyun…” said Jiyong uselessly. He wondered if he would come to feel like that, feel the _anger_ his poor brother must have experienced upon learning what had happened to him. Right now he couldn’t; he was still too afraid to be angry.

“How did you get here?” Seunghyun reached for the bed controls with his free hand and pressed a button shakily, elevating him to a half-sitting position. “Did the doctors say you were well enough to travel? Have you been admitted?”

“Of course,” said Jiyong. “Your friend Kang Daesung brought me. He’s coming by later, when you’re feeling better.” It felt surprisingly good to be the one doing the soothing; it made him feel less like a victim. He bit his lip. “…You don’t have to tell me now, Tabi, but I have to know…what _happened_?”

“I’m…not sure.” Seunghyun looked puzzled, and rather afraid. Jiyong knew what that felt like, all right: those terrible hours were still a blur. All he was sure of were the aftereffects of what had been done to him. Maybe his brother was the same. “I’m so sorry I frightened you,” Seunghyun told him, looking as guilty as Jiyong felt. “I frightened myself too. Now I have to see a shrink.”

“Whatever help you need,” Jiyong announced, “you’ll get it.” Seunghyun squeezed his hand lovingly, to let him know the sentiment went both ways. “…But you won’t leave me again?” blurted out the younger man before he could help it. “Will you?”

“No.” Seunghyun yawned involuntarily, but Jiyong could see he meant it. “Not ever.”

 

Jiyong spent as long as he was allowed that day in his brother’s room, sitting in a chair by Seunghyun’s bed, although he would have been much more comfortable lying down. Half the time their father was with them, dividing his attention equally between them – though obviously Seunghyun got most of the worry. The other half Seunghyun’s mother took over. Jiyong would retreat for a bit then, because he could see his presence cramped her genuine joy and fear for her son.

And even that night he snuck back down, ghosting awkwardly through the corridors to sit beside his brother and watch him sleep. He still couldn’t sleep himself, although he knew it was only a matter of time before he had to. He was scared of what his dreams might show him.

The early shift found him with his head pillowed on Seunghyun’s bedspread. They gave him a gentle scolding and sent him back upstairs. Jiyong was very meek with the nurses, unlike Seunghyun, who now he had woken up fully was getting rather grumpy.

“We’re moving your brother onto the general ward,” said the first nurse Jiyong had met. Her pretty face looked ambivalent, as if she couldn’t decide whether to be pissed at Seunghyun for his nagging or impressed by his looks. “We’ll let him in here with you, if it’ll make you two behave!”

“Yes please!” Jiyong exclaimed. He didn’t want Seunghyun out of his sight a minute longer than he had to be.

“You’re a couple of cuties,” the nurse told him, and Jiyong flashed her a shadow of his old smile. “But you’re driving us up the wall.”

Seunghyun was wheeled in a few hours later; he did look better, and cross and irritable with it. Jiyong had put up with his brother through enough bouts of cold to know how annoying a patient he could be; he didn’t envy the nurses now Seunghyun was feeling more like himself. But he was delighted to see the older man acting somewhat normal again.

“Closer, please,” dictated Seunghyun to the orderlies setting up his bed and the IV stand. He scowled at them until they moved him over. Then he stretched out his arm across the space between them. Jiyong reached for him. Their fingers touched. “All right,” Seunghyun said, and smiled in satisfaction.

The orderlies left. Seunghyun shuffled over to the edge of his bed so he could take Jiyong’s outstretched hand properly.

“Are you feeling better?” asked Jiyong, rolling over carefully to look at him. He would never get tired of looking at him.

“There’s nothing wrong with me.” Seunghyun squeezed his hand reassuringly. “Just a bit confused. But you look tired, baby,” he said in concern. Jiyong nodded. He was relieved, so deeply relieved to have Seunghyun here with him. “I’m gonna look after you now,” his brother told him. “So go to sleep.”

Jiyong nodded again, but kept his gaze fixed on the older man, drinking in his beautiful features, until he began to feel safe. And at last he dropped into sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was still sleeping, his sweet battered face pulled into a worried frown, when Seunghyun’s mother found her way to the new room for her visit.

“I can have them get you a private room,” she said immediately, sitting down beside him. “Your father can afford it.”

“ _I_ can afford it,” Seunghyun pointed out tiredly. He was happy and grateful that his mother had stayed after his condition had stabilized, that she braved the hospital to come see him every day. But he thought he knew where this conversation was going; it had been years since she had seen Jiyong, or even talked about him. Surely this would have been the ideal opportunity for the two of them to shelve their differences, or at least tolerate each other’s presence: solidarity in hardship, and all that. Yet her feelings clearly hadn’t changed. Seunghyun wanted to steer the topic to something safer, but he was simply too weak for his brain to take responsibility and deal with it.

“Well then,” said his mother.

“I asked to be in here,” explained Seunghyun, raising himself up with the bed controls so they were almost at eye level. “Hospitals are overcrowded, and Jiyong’s my brother; of course it makes sense for us to share.” His mother patted his hand; Seunghyun could tell she was exasperated.

“You’re a good boy. But you’ll need a lot of rest, after…”

Seunghyun knew what she was trying not to say. That he had gone too far; that maybe, _maybe_ , he had tried to do something stupid. The awful thing was that Seunghyun couldn’t remember. He was almost certain it hadn’t been deliberate – he had never had any impulses in that direction before, no matter how down he felt; and, more importantly, he would _never_ do that to Jiyong, when his brother needed him so much! He remembered going back to his room and drinking. Then feeling sick, from the liquor and what had happened. Then, vaguely, calling Daesung and ranting at him. After that he might have drunk some more, but he couldn’t _sleep_ ; behind his eyes he kept seeing terrible visions of what might have happened to Jiyong, worse and worse with each repetition. So, apparently, he had taken a sleeping pill; he always had some in his briefcase for flights. And maybe it hadn’t worked, so he’d taken some more, and, with the drinking, lost count. Yes, that made the most sense.

Seunghyun was trying to avoid the possibility that he might have downed the pills in some kind of call for help or a bid for attention; that he was too feeble to deal with his prostrating guilt alone. Well, even if he _had_ , he knew now it had been a mistake. He would never do that again: he would face the fact that he couldn’t do anything meaningful for Jiyong, and from now on would work to support his brother however else he could.

He came back to himself to see his mother with her hand over her mouth, trying not to cry out loud.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Seunghyun reassured her. “I was just…thinking.”

“Won’t they move you to the hospital in Seoul?” she asked tearfully. You need proper rest and care, you need to see a specialist. You won’t get the best out here! And you want to see Mina, don’t you?”

“They’ll transfer us, I guess,” said Seunghyun, diplomatically ignoring that last part. He shot a glance at his brother, who had turned restlessly onto his side and was sleeping with his arms curled protectively round himself. “When they think we’re both stable enough, and when we can move Jiyong quietly.”

“He’ll be going back to his base, won’t he?” Seunghyun’s mother followed his gaze; she had stopped sounding worried. “He’s banged up, poor thing, but he’s not exactly fighting for his life.”

“No,” said Seunghyun firmly, “he’s coming home with us. You don’t know how bad he’s hurt.” He found himself growing frustrated, despite his weariness. She had no idea what Jiyong had been through! And he couldn’t _tell_ her, even if he had thought it would improve her attitude towards his brother. He would never betray Jiyong like that. He knew how the world – or at least the Korean part of it – would see it; how they would look at Jiyong like he was damaged goods for the rest of his life.

“He’s still on military service,” argued his mother. “He has a duty to go back. Would you or your father have tried ducking out after a simple accident?” Seunghyun took a sharp breath.

“Are you calling my brother a coward?” he asked in a low voice. He wished he had a drink right now.

“I’m calling _you_ too good to always be defending your father’s by-blow!” she snapped. “I know he had something to do with this, darling, you can’t hide it from me. Why would it happen _now_ , when you’re down here with him? Unless he _did_ something…”

Seunghyun struggled into a sitting position, his protective instinct kicking into overdrive and giving him the energy to raise his voice.

“Jiyong is _my brother_.” He looked her right in the eye. “I won’t have this argument again.”

“But-”

“He’s absolutely important to me,” Seunghyun said fiercely. Then he sighed. “Don’t ask me to choose between you, Mom. Because I think I’d regret it, and I’m damn sure you would!”

She gasped, shocked at his language and then at his ultimatum. Seunghyun stared at her fiercely; finally it had come to it, after all these years of dancing round their feelings.

“You’re not thinking straight.” She reached out for him, but he drew his hand back. “You can’t make any decisions until you talk to a…a professional!”

“Say ‘shrink’,” suggested Seunghyun drily. “And that won’t change my mind.”

“He’s not worth it,” she said, and Seunghyun knew she genuinely believed it.

“He is,” Seunghyun promised. “There’s nothing I won’t do to protect him. I mean it: nothing.”

His mother opened her mouth, but no words came out. Seunghyun felt his ears burning, but the guilt was nothing to his sense of responsibility to his brother. She must have believed him, because her face crumpled. She shoved the chair back and almost ran from the room.

Seunghyun lay back with a thump, making his head throb. He felt weak as a rag doll. He heaved a sigh, then turned his head to look at the other bed. Jiyong’s eyes were open, and bright with tears; he must have heard at least some of that exchange. Seunghyun had never wanted his brother to have to endure his mother’s invective; now least of all, when he was so vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

“…Don’t be.” Jiyong reached out for his hand. “I love you, Tabi.”

They lay like that, eyes closed, until the psychiatric unit came to get them for their evaluations.

 

* * *

 

 

“The hospital’s ready to let me transfer back to Seoul,” Seunghyun told Daesung two days later. “Now that they’re convinced I’m not going to jump out a top-floor window as soon as they let me out of bed.”

“Will you have to check in again when you get there?” Daesung took a seat between Seunghyun and Jiyong and patted the older man’s arm affectionately.

“Yeah, I have to spend a couple of days as an inpatient. SNU Hospital. Home turf, right?” Daesung smiled. “But what we need to sort out is: How do we make it so Jiyong can come with me?” He glanced over at his brother, who was looking at him anxiously. “He still ought to be in hospital, and I don’t want him stuck out here!”

“Understandably,” said Daesung, who never got overheated like Seunghyun did.

“So…can he leave? What are the procedures for transferring an enlisted recruit? And what about…well, the case? Will they want him here to question during the investigation?” Jiyong didn’t look happy about that.

“I shouldn’t think so.” Daesung sounded ambivalent. “If you want to go together I can swing it.”

“What’s going to happen, though?” Jiyong asked the older men. His pale face looked tired, and Seunghyun knew he still wasn’t sleeping properly. “I mean, I don’t want this going public. I won’t make a fuss, the company will do everything they can to keep my condition out of the media. But…what about the Army?” Seunghyun knew what he meant; Jiyong wanted to know what the military itself would do to avenge the wrong that had been done to him.

“There’ll be an internal investigation, right?” he said to Daesung. “I dunno who deals with intra-military crimes, is it the unit or does it come from higher up? To find who did this and punish them…” He had to stop; he could feel himself losing his cool. Daesung looked at his shoes for a minute, then pulled a face Seunghyun was quite familiar with but did not want to see right now.

“There’ll be something,” he agreed. “But…if you leave the armed forces to their own devices, I’m sorry to say it’ll be mostly lip service. No, not even that; it won’t get talked about at all.”

“What?” said Jiyong.

“There’ll be a report,” explained the lawyer flatly. “And it will record an assault happened, that samples were taken and a search was made, but that it was impossible to find further evidence because you don’t remember anything. And then it’ll be filed away.” Seunghyun felt his face darken; he had suspected that an Army-led investigation would not be thorough or expert, and that they would not want the crime publicised. But he expected them to _try_ , even if the punishment was carried out away from the public eye. Jiyong’s bruised face looked dismayed.

“You mean they won’t try and find who did it? Or they won’t punish them?”

“It depends.”

“But…” Jiyong seemed to be struggling with the concept. “But what if they do it again?!”

“Unfortunately, some people high up in the military would rather that than have it on public record that something like this could happen to a recruit.” Daesung shrugged gloomily. “Especially a famous one. I’m sorry, Jiyong,” he said, and Seunghyun could tell he meant it. “The only way to force a real investigation is to make a public accusation.” Jiyong blanched.

“So…if I keep quiet…this might happen to someone else? Because of _me_?”

“It’s not because of you,” Seunghyun assured him angrily. “None of this is your fault, for fuck’s sake!” He turned to Daesung. “Are you serious?” he said in a low, furious tone. “Have you read the news these last few months?”

“I know what you’re talking about,” said Daesung. “I agree.”

“The goddam Army will move heaven and earth to out a gay soldier,” snapped Seunghyun. “Guys doing their military service like they have to, because they’re citizens, men who’ve done nothing wrong. What do they get? Exposure, prosecution, maybe even locked up!” Daesung was nodding along, while Jiyong watched him wide-eyed. “The – completely illegal – pursuit of homosexual soldiers is _meticulous_ ,” continued Seunghyun. “But rape gets _nothing_?”

“I know,” agreed Daesung sympathetically. “It’s totally illogical when you think about it, too.”

“Screw that,” spat Seunghyun. “It’s _immoral_.”

“Yes. But according to their way of thinking, rape isn’t about sexuality; it’s about power. And sadly the assertion of power is at the heart of most military structures. So they don’t take it as seriously, even when they know the rest of society does.” Daesung looked at him closely. “I can see your ideological wheels turning; you’re thinking, _we have to do something about this_. Yes?”

“ _Yes_.” Daesung sighed.

“Stop and consider a minute: Are you saying you want to take on the entire Army? The two of us? Look, I’m a good lawyer. And you’re going to be a great one. With my military expertise and your human rights contacts, we could make a splash, all right. Maybe in another ten years we’d have enough professional clout to make people really take notice. But as it is…”

“What?” said Seunghyun miserably. He hated not being the voice of reason, but right now it was impossible.

“We wouldn’t win,” explained Daesung flatly. “Not now. Not without _big_ ammunition.”

“…Ah.”

“I mean Jiyong.” The younger man flinched at that. “Yeah,” said the lawyer. “Even if it hits the target, the ammunition is going to get flattened. It would mean everything going public, and all the fallout.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” hissed Seunghyun. Jiyong was biting his lip hard, a horrified expression on his small face; Seunghyun could tell he was agonising over the two sickening choices.

“And even if you did,” Daesung carried on, “there’s no guarantee that you’d manage to change how the Army deals with sex crimes. Or even get personal justice.”

“…Then no.” Seunghyun reached out and set his hand on Jiyong’s wrist. “Let’s not do it. I hate it, but…for all the reasons you’ve already told me, we have to drop it.” Jiyong grit his teeth. “All that matters is you,” Seunghyun told him passionately. “Getting you well and happy. And we can’t do that with the whole damn country judging you for what happened to you! Bastards,” he added. The older man saw a tear slide down Jiyong’s face. Then his brother took a deep, calming breath and brushed it away.

“What are my choices?” Jiyong asked them, keeping a tight rein on his voice.

“…Do you want to go back to the Army?” asked Seunghyun gently. “Finish your service as if nothing happened?” He wouldn’t think to presume, even now; it had to be Jiyong’s choice – Seunghyun would never let him be forced into anything again. But when Jiyong shook his head quickly and tensed up, Seunghyun couldn’t help but be relieved. He had been worried his brother would yield to social pressure to finish his two years, from the company, from his fans; he was proud of Jiyong for knowing what he wanted.

“Then you have a couple of options,” Daesung told them. “You could continue your military service in a different branch; the city police, say, or even public service. That’s not too uncommon for idols anyway.”

“I…” Jiyong pursed his lips in the way Seunghyun loved, then shook his head again. “Not if I don’t have to.” Daesung nodded, as if he had expected it.

“Then we can privately ask your unit to discharge you. Cut your military service short.”

“How?” asked Jiyong, shooting an anxious glance at Seunghyun. “Without…without everyone knowing why. I’m _famous_ , the press is bound to try and find out! What’s the excuse?”

“A few possibles,” Daesung mused, though Seunghyun knew he must have looked into Jiyong’s case minutely and decided on a course of action already. “You can be discharged due to a debilitating injury, but on the surface no-one knows how seriously you were hurt, so that might not wash in public.”

“No,” agreed Jiyong adamantly. “And I don’t want them to know.” He hung his head. “They should; I know I should tell everyone, just to _help_. But I _can’t_.” Seunghyun squeezed his hand.

“Then there’s bad behaviour,” continued Daesung, ignoring the shake in Jiyong’s voice. “But that would be a dishonourable discharge, and depending on what kind of star image you’re trying to maintain, that might not be what you’re after either.”

“That would be as bad for my status as what really happened.” Jiyong thought. “Almost,” he said unhappily.

“Will you get to it?” Seunghyun told his senior. He was still angry. Daesung gave him a smile.

“You can also get out if you’re what the military deems ‘unsuitable’ for national service. Usually that means disability or mental illness.”

“But-”

“You had a serious accident,” Daesung reminded Jiyong. “It shook you badly, and it damaged your face, albeit temporarily.” He paused, and Seunghyun knew he was trying not to smile and hurt the younger man’s feelings. “I’m sorry, it’s just that you have a particular public image – you must know it – that could work to our advantage.”

“That I’m vain as hell,” said Jiyong flatly.

“Right. Well, true or not,” continued Daesung, briefly sliding a hand across his mouth to grin to himself, “the fact is that your face is part of your trademark. We can argue that you’re suffering emotional trauma, even PTSD.”

“But-” began Jiyong again.

“Which isn’t a lie.” Daesung looked at him kindly. “It’s already being rumoured on social media that you’re seeing a counsellor at the hospital; nobody needs to know exactly why. Just that you’re not robust enough to wait out your service, so the Army’s kindly letting you go.”

Jiyong looked doubtful.

“Everyone’s gonna throw total shade at me for that,” he said. “But I guess it’s the only way.”

“Will the Army toe the line?” Seunghyun put in. Daesung nodded grimly.

“They will. I’ll dress it up in legalese, of course, but the message is simple: let Jiyong go, or we’ll blow up a scandal so big it’ll be worse than the Catholic Church. _Quid pro quo_. What?” he said. “You didn’t think this is the only accusation of sexual abuse that’s been made against the military? There are all kinds of cases out there, and Jiyong would be the catalyst to make the whole thing explode. He’s too famous. Trust me, they’re scared of him; they want him to keep quiet.”

“…All right,” agreed Jiyong in a mumble.

“Just keep up your appointments at the hospital,” instructed Daesung. “Let me deal with your unit, and YG with the press. You and Seunghyun concentrate on feeling better, and once this has all died down you can think about going back to work.”

Jiyong just sighed. Seunghyun reached out and squeezed his shoulder. He didn’t think it was right that Jiyong should have to handle any more lies than they were already telling every day. But they had no choice.

 

* * *

 

 

The hospital in Seoul had a lot more facilities, Jiyong found when they got there: luxurious private rooms, better food, and an expert psychiatric staff – they were each assigned a regular counsellor, and were started on their sessions right away now they were being roomed separately.

Another thing SNU Hospital had in abundance, Jiyong found out almost as soon as he arrived, was reporters. TV, radio, Internet, paparazzi, there was always someone lurking optimistically in the hospital entrance or being thrown out of the wing where Jiyong and Seunghyun were being kept. Jiyong didn’t actually blame them: one megastar idol with undisclosed injuries and a mental problem was story enough, but throw in a handsome model/lawyer brother with an overdose and it must be too tantalising to resist. YG had Jiyong’s old bodyguards ‘visiting’ almost permanently now, alarming the nurses.

Jiyong spent five days at Seunghyun’s bedside while his ribs began to knit together. Now they were no longer sharing a room one of them had to make the effort to move, and Jiyong wasn’t going to let it be his brother. Seunghyun still looked so pale, so unsure of himself. Jiyong blamed his mother – she had used up all her son’s energy abusing his little brother.

“Are you sleeping all right?” asked Seunghyun, who had been doing a lot of it himself. His palm ran back and forth across the growing bristle of Jiyong’s hair.

“Not really,” admitted Jiyong. “Not by myself.” He sighed. “The doctor wants to put me on pills but my shrink says no. At least for now. I think she’s worried about forcing bad dreams on me.”

“Best to stay off meds if you can.” Seunghyun looked miserable and frustrated; Jiyong knew he still couldn’t remember how he’d managed to overdose. For his articulate and rational brother, that must be terrifying.

“They’re letting me out tomorrow.” Jiyong took Seunghyun’s hand absently. “That’s what I came in to tell you – Nurse is gonna chase me back to bed for rounds in five minutes so I gotta be quick. Have they said anything to you?”

“The same,” said Seunghyun, looking relieved. “Good. I didn’t want you stuck in here by yourself.”

Jiyong had noticed that his brother now had a thing about him being alone: Seunghyun wanted their father or a nurse or even a bodyguard to visit Jiyong when the older man was asleep and couldn’t be with him. He’d even suggested inviting Youngbae or another of his close friends to keep Jiyong company. Jiyong was all for being taken out of his head, where baffled memories lay waiting to jump out at any time. But he got tired quickly, and sometimes longed to be by himself.

“Where do you wanna go?” asked Jiyong. “Your place?” His own big apartment was still shut up; he had never imagined he’d return to civilian life so soon. Seunghyun hummed.

“…Let’s go home.” He turned to look directly at Jiyong. “What do you think? For a while, anyway.”

Jiyong smiled, and if it wasn’t as dazzling as his old smiles he at least wanted it to be. He had been imagining it too, their father’s house, back when they were teenagers that long-ago summer. The two of them, and their dad, and Chan-mi. The idea of family had made him feel better when he was so lonely in the middle of his troop; and now it kept him safe when he was lying sleepless in his white room.

“Yes,” he said, and Seunghyun smiled wanly too, looking hugely relieved. “I want it to be like it was. And…if it can’t be like that, at least it’ll be better than here.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next day the two of them were discharged, given outpatient and counselling schedules, and wheeled to an unobtrusive side entrance where a company car was waiting for them.

That had been a mistake, Jiyong realised as soon as the orderlies opened the door: outside in the narrow road were at least two dozen journalists. Jiyong froze, unable to move as a sea of flashes went off; he felt his face school itself into its neutral ‘paparazzi’ expression. Of _course_ they would be here, he thought, horrified; and then, a moment later, remembered the damn chair.

Beside him Seunghyun growled under his breath; while Jiyong viewed the press as an inevitable nuisance, he knew his brother truly hated the invasion of privacy. Jiyong’s minders had advanced down the steps, bodily clearing a path to the car. But Jiyong knew that this wasn’t going to go away. Challenging his injured frame to move he made a soft, quelling gesture in Seunghyun’s direction and with barely a wince stood up. More camera flashes.

“Take Tabi back inside,” he said quietly to Yejun, one of his favourite orderlies. “Call our dad to come pick him up, can you?” Seunghyun started to protest, still sounding weak and angry. Jiyong gave him a look and he piped down. Yejun nodded, and ten seconds later his brother was safely out of the way.

Jiyong squared his shoulders, which hurt, and sighed audibly, supporting himself with one hand on the back of his wheelchair.

“All right. Who has questions?”

 

Several hours later Jiyong finally made it back to the suburbs. After his impromptu press conference – which he felt he had handled very well, given the circumstances – he had got carefully into the car. Instead of going home he was driven around the city for a bit, presumably to lose the most dogged reporters, and then taken to YG’s huge house to explain himself.

Jiyong’s manager was there too; they must have got wind of the hospital-steps encounter even as it was unfolding, Jiyong realised; half the reporters were probably Tweeting the entire time. The two of them weren’t visibly angry – Jiyong supposed his horrible circumstances were good for something – they just wanted to know what he’d told the press, about himself and Seunghyun as well, so they could spin the best story. Jiyong was scolded briefly, in a half-hearted way, then reassured that his lies corroborated the press release the Army was to put out. Seunghyun was certainly getting his money’s worth in Daesung.

By the time the car returned to pick him up and made the long drive out of the city, it was dark. Jiyong was tired, and he was starving. But most of all he was anxious; he had used up all his bravery putting on a good face for the press, including the nosiest reporters who were camped outside the house. Jiyong’s minders called the police to let them know, and ushered him inside. Now all he wanted to do was check Seunghyun was okay.

“Welcome home, son,” said his father, the way he always did. He set a hand on the back of Jiyong’s neck and pulled him into a careful hug. “For as long as you like.”

“Where’s Tabi?” asked Jiyong immediately.

“Gone to bed.” The older man helped Jiyong take his jacket off, then let his son lean on him as they walked slowly through to the warm, familiar kitchen. “Ribs bothering you?” asked his father.

“Right now it’s my ankle.” That was partly true, at least. In fact, everything below the waist was still distractingly painful; Jiyong knew he should take his medication soon.

Chan-mi had made him stew. The taste was so nostalgic he thought he might cry, and refused to let himself. He cried at the drop of a hat these days, he really had to stop. But it was good, and he ate it all.

“You want helping upstairs?” enquired his father, who was wearing an apron. Jiyong smiled faintly. He was terribly glad to be home.

“Yes, please.” His father saw him to his room and left him with an affectionate pat on the cheek and instructions to shout out if he needed anything or had a bad dream. Chance would be a fine thing, thought Jiyong as he stiffly changed into an old pair of pyjamas. He had gone so long without proper sleep now that he’d almost welcome a nightmare if it meant he could get some shut-eye first.

He brushed his teeth, washed his injured face gingerly, and sat down on his bed. It didn’t feel right. Why not? he thought, a stab of unease darting through him. What was wrong? He was in his own house at last, with family around him. He lay with all the lights turned on, peering at the familiar objects in the room, and tried to figure it out. And once he did, he had to tell himself off for being a goddam idiot.

Jiyong quietly opened the door to Seunghyun’s room and slipped inside. He had had no choice, he understood as soon as he realised what was missing; he couldn’t lie there alone, he _couldn’t_. Not when Seunghyun might need him.

“There you are,” murmured his brother, who was lying on top of his covers and had clearly been awake this whole time. And then, very sincerely, “thank God. I thought SBS had kidnapped you.” He held out his hand and Jiyong came eagerly to join him, snuggling against him on the bed like he had wanted to do every night at the hospital.

“I didn’t want you to sleep alone,” continued Seunghyun. His arm crept around Jiyong’s shoulder gingerly, and the younger man started to wonder what was making him so hesitant to touch him.

“Ditto,” whispered Jiyong. “And I missed you.”

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” Seunghyun explained. “Your…ribs and all.”

“Ah.” Jiyong felt a bit better; he hoped that was the only thing preventing Seunghyun from holding him close. And it was true; he still hurt all over, in spite of the medicine. “To be honest,” he confessed, “I don’t know if I can sleep at all.”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun sighed miserably, and with a guilty start Jiyong remembered how responsible he was for what had happened to his big brother.

“But it’s fine,” he added quickly. “It’ll make me feel better watching you.”

“…I am tired,” confessed Seunghyun, sounding guilty himself now. Jiyong leaned over and set his lips to his brother’s temple.

“Close your eyes.”

Jiyong watched the older man drop into sleep; his beautiful face looked exhausted. Jiyong was sure, what with the pain and worry eating him up, that he would not be able to rest himself. But after about twenty minutes he felt his eyelids start to droop. And then, blissfully, nothing.

 

When he woke up it was daytime; Jiyong could sense it behind his closed eyelids. He could also sense there was someone in the room, and that catapulted him into awareness faster than any light. He opened his eyes to find he had migrated closer in the night to rest his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder; his brother’s arm was underneath his neck, the back of the hand with its gauze-covered IV puncture not touching the pillow.

Jiyong raised his head just enough to look across the room. Their father was standing in the doorway, watching his sons with a mixture of bewilderment and sorrow on his still-handsome features. Jiyong felt awful at that: yet another lie to add to the ways they had been deceiving him for years already. But it was better than forcing on him the knowledge of what had really happened. Jiyong thought that would break his heart.

“You boys,” murmured their father sadly, once he saw Jiyong was awake. “Look at you: both in the wars, aren’t you.” Jiyong nodded and tried for a little smile. “Look after your brother,” the older man said quietly. “He won’t talk to me, still. But you…”

“I will, Dad.” Jiyong nodded more firmly.

“You’re a good boy.” Jiyong thanked god then that his father didn’t know the truth: that his younger son had shamed him in a dozen different ways. But perhaps he could still make him proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't intend for this kinky-incest-fic to get all social commentary, but it just went that way.   
> Next chapter we return to the purely personal as our boys attempt to begin the healing process.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys discuss the negative merits of lying their way through therapy sessions, and Jiyong tries using a night in the wild to kick-start his life again.

For a full week they stayed home. This was facilitated by the paparazzi that periodically rocked up outside the house trying to get a glimpse of the injured pop star and figure out what was making him need his own shrink. Jiyong was pretty resigned to it – he knew the price of fame and had accepted it long ago – but he saw it still made Seunghyun angry to have strangers photograph them.

So they kept indoors, eating and resting or talking to their father and Chan-mi, who relaxed her usual strict attitude towards the boys and allowed them some pampering. It was way better than the hospital, thought Jiyong. Here he was surrounded by people who loved him, and if they didn’t give him as much sympathy as his terrible experience merited, that was hardly their fault, now was it? Besides, it was a relief not to have people act so careful around him. The only person who knew everything was Seunghyun.

For all that had happened, thought Jiyong, it was wonderful to be able to spend so much time with his brother after months upon months of loneliness. He could see Seunghyun blamed himself – which was ridiculous – but Jiyong was trying to convince him otherwise. He hoped Seunghyun’s counsellor would help with that.

When they did periodically venture out it was to the hospital. Seunghyun was soon pronounced physically healthy, and Jiyong’s ribs were knitting fine. His ankle had stopped hurting, though the specialist had advised him not to try dancing for a while yet. The scratches and bruises were beginning to fade. That took care of the physical issues. Jiyong was afraid the mental side of things was going to be much more tricky.

“How’re you sleeping?” inquired Dr. Kanayama at their weekly appointment. Jiyong had been nonplussed at being assigned a Japanese counsellor, but her Korean was perfect enough that she must have been born and raised here. And she was unthreatening and non-judgmental. He decided after the first couple of sessions that he was glad to have her; he sensed he would have been much less comfortable with a man. No doubt that was why they’d recommended her.

“Okay,” he said. He was cross-legged in the chair opposite her, sitting up very straight; his ribs hurt less that way.

“Any dreams?”

Jiyong shook his head; he still couldn’t remember anything, asleep or awake. He guessed that from a psychiatric viewpoint this wasn’t too promising – it would be hard to delve deep to the root of his traumatic experience when he had no memory of it at all. But Jiyong was glad not to remember; his body was a record of the viciousness of the attack, and he wasn’t sure he could stand to recall it.

“It will hurt,” Kanayama agreed with him; she could often read him, even when he had his public face on. Well, it was her job. “But in the end it would help you. How do you actually sleep?” she asked. “Not in terms of quality, but when and where.”

“I catnap in the daytime sometimes,” said Jiyong. “When I know there are people around. It’s kind of hard, though; I mean, to sleep when some tabloid photographer could stick his camera in the window any minute.” She nodded.

“And what about at night?”

“I sleep with my brother,” Jiyong stated defiantly. There was nothing weird about that, not after what they had been through. “In his room. It helps, I think.” Kanayama nodded again. She looked interested, but then she always did.

“Do you think you find it easier to sleep there because he’s protecting you? Or because you’re protecting him?”

“Both,” said Jiyong firmly.

“Does he have trouble sleeping too?” The counsellor was familiar with Seunghyun’s situation, although the older man had his own specialist, supposedly to help him process the circumstances of his overdose. Jiyong knew Seunghyun hated discussing his personal life with strangers, but had scared himself so badly he was actually making an effort to turn up to his sessions.

“Oh, no,” said Jiyong, with a little smile. “He’s out like a light.”

“That’s good.” Kanayama was doodling casually in her notebook. Without looking up, she said, “Does he ever ask if you remember what happened?”

“No,” Jiyong replied immediately. Seunghyun was very careful about that, after he had seen how much distress it caused him; like Jiyong, he must have resigned himself to never knowing. He had asked Jiyong about the rest of his Army experiences, but the younger man had refused even that: however much relief it would have given him to confess the terrible loneliness he had endured this past year, he wouldn’t. Not with Seunghyun already feeling so guilty. “Not since it first happened,” he added. He could feel the shameful blush rising on his cheekbones. He wished he could control it; if there was one place where he shouldn’t feel ashamed, it was here.

“And do you ever ask him if _he_ remembers?”

“No. Why would I try to upset him?” He saw Kanayama sigh.

“It’s good that you and your brother have someone to rely on. You both need a support network outside these sessions.” She gave him a serious look. “But…I’m going to suggest that it not be each other. At least until you’re both a bit more stable.”

“Why?” demanded Jiyong. Of course he was going to be there for Seunghyun!

“One, because you could hurt each other. If you lean on your brother and he’s unable to take the strain – or vice versa, you both have serious issues, remember – you might end up subconsciously resenting each other. Him blaming you for expecting too much, and you not being able to trust him because he couldn’t provide what you need. Do you see?”

“That wouldn’t happen!” Jiyong exclaimed. “I’d never do that to him.”

“Two,” continued the doctor, letting it go without comment, “it’s quite possible that you’re preventing each other from remembering. If you’re going to fully process what’s happened to you and move on, you need to know what you’re recovering _from_. But you’re too protective of each other to encourage the other person to remember something so painful.”

“I have you, don’t I?” said Jiyong rudely. “Isn’t that why I’m here all the damn time?” But she might have a point.

“Among other things, yes.” Kanayama leaned back: non-confrontational. “I’m not suggesting that you spend less time with your brother. Just…don’t be afraid to let other people get close to you. Someone you’re not so invested in. It doesn’t have to be your soulmate, just someone you trust enough to encourage you to open up. Maybe another relation? Or a good friend.”

“…Maybe.” Jiyong wasn’t sure who that would be; he had kind of burned his bridges with his other relatives years ago, and he couldn’t think of a friend he would want to burden with this – not even Youngbae. He wondered what she would say if she knew just how close he was to Seunghyun; would it make his brother a more appropriate confidante, or less? He couldn’t ask her, of course. And so he’d never know.

 

* * *

 

 

After a few weeks bumming around and having quiet dinners with his family and close friends, Jiyong felt ready to get back to work. Well, maybe not ready, but he was uncomfortable not being busy; he hadn’t been this idle since he was sixteen. He was doing a lot of writing, but it was so strange he wasn’t sure he could ever use it. Time to do something practical.

When he first came into the city and talked to YG and his manager, he found he was both relieved and hurt by their silence about what had happened. He knew his company president loved him, in a complicated way that fell somewhere between Jiyong as a son and as a cash machine. It was true, what people always said: he was YG’s treasure. But all he did now was tell Jiyong to take things easy, and keep a low creative profile until people stopped caring that he had left his military service early.

Jiyong was grateful to him and Hoang for not bringing it up; he was sure they didn’t want to cause him any pain. But at the same time something about their careful awkwardness made _him_ feel awkward, as if he was inconveniencing them by turning up before they were mentally prepared to deal with him.

It went away eventually and their treatment of him returned to normal, but he was put off enough to make his trips into Seoul less frequent. He wasn’t making public appearances or taking any jobs, and if he wanted to record something to use later he did it in his bedroom like the old days. It wasn’t bad. But if this was the very best he could expect from people knowing, reflected Jiyong, he was doubly glad he had kept it a secret. He said as much to Seunghyun, who nodded.

“You did the right thing.” They were in the den with the lights off, watching a late-night comedy show with the sound muted; the luminous performers looked nuts like this, their movements exaggerated and crude as a school play. It made everything feel very surreal.

It was past midnight. Their father had gone to bed at last, and Seunghyun had shuffled over to sit close to him on the sofa. Jiyong looked at him; his brother seemed much calmer lately. They were still in regular therapy, and scheduled their appointments at the same time so they could go home together when Seunghyun wasn’t due at the office; he had taken two weeks’ leave from work after returning to Seoul, but was back part-time now. Jiyong thought it was doing him some good to think about other people’s problems instead of his own for a change. He rather envied him, and that wasn’t the only reason.

“Is something wrong?” asked Seunghyun, immediately picking up on his mood. They had been so close lately, truly inseparable, and Seunghyun could read him easily. Jiyong wondered if he was as good at divining his older brother’s needs.

“Nothing _wrong_.” Seunghyun was looking at him with his eyebrows raised. “…I don’t think Dad understands why I have to go to counselling too,” said Jiyong thoughtfully. This was his other reason for occasionally being envious of the older man: Seunghyun got a lot more sympathy from their father. He had to keep reminding himself that his own injuries were the result of a simple ‘accident’; he couldn’t expect as much worry and attention as Seunghyun received.

“The accident traumatised you,” Seunghyun reminded him. “He knows you have to go. It was one of the conditions of your release.”

“Yeah, but…” Jiyong pursed his lips. “Doesn’t it make me seem…weak? If either of you had been injured in an accident you’d have patched yourselves up and carried right on serving. I would’ve, too! I don’t want him thinking of me like…like I’m a coward.”

“Do you want to tell him?” asked Seunghyun carefully.

“No!” Jiyong shook his head quickly. “I know that would be worse. I’ll just have to grin and bear it.”

“Lies,” said Seunghyun, gloomily. “We’re giving our therapists a pretty difficult job.”

“…It does make it hard to have an honest conversation,” agreed Jiyong. “And she’s already ruled out group therapy because I’m so well-known everyone on the bloody Internet would hear what had happened to me after one session. So we’re left with one-on-one, and it’s…awkward. I mean, she knows I haven’t told Dad, and that I made up a story for the public, but…”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun nodded, then reached across and took his hand. “I’m guessing there’s one thing you haven’t told her.”

“You,” said Jiyong, squeezing his hand.

“Right. The one thing we can’t possibly say.”

“And if they don’t know we’re hiding something this big, how can they really help?” Jiyong continued, though he was sure Seunghyun had come to this conclusion long before. “It’s like…they can’t really know us at all.”

“There must be so much psychological damage we’ve done to ourselves by keeping it secret all these years,” Seunghyun said. “That’s what they’d argue, anyway. But they don’t know, so they can’t.”

“I don’t feel _damaged_ by being with you,” Jiyong told him angrily.

“I know that, baby. It’s the fact that we have to hide it.” Seunghyun bumped his shoulder reassuringly. “If I didn’t have you I’d never have got through any of this, believe me.”

“Yeah.” Jiyong leaned against the older man, enjoying the comfort and security of his presence. The way he always had. He didn’t care what Kanayama said; _this_ was what he needed.

“…And that’s something else they don’t know,” mused Seunghyun. Jiyong looked at him questioningly. “That we already have a support network. That I’ve got someone I can trust without question, and rely on, and tell anything; someone who makes me strong.” Jiyong felt his heart swell at that. “Sounds corny,” said his brother with a smile, “but it’s true.”

“I know,” murmured Jiyong, and kissed him quickly on the temple. He wanted to do more, but he wasn’t sure Seunghyun was ready. Or if _he_ was.

“That’s why I get frustrated with the therapy.” Seunghyun sighed. “He means well, and he’s good. Just not good enough to work round my secrets. And not as good as _you_.”

“We have to keep going, though.” Jiyong groaned and put his head back. “I know I’m not…better. But it doesn’t help!” They were quiet for a while.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” said Seunghyun at last. He put his arm round Jiyong’s shoulders, and brightened up. “Let’s go camping.”

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later Seunghyun woke Jiyong at midnight. Jiyong slept beside his brother every night now. Fortunately their father didn’t seem to think that was odd. Everyone was so worried about Seunghyun and what he had done, and _why_ , that having someone keep an eye on him was probably a relief. For Jiyong’s part, it was still the only way he could get a decent night’s sleep at all.

“Get up, baby.”

“Mmm?” Jiyong stretched languidly and opened his eyes. “Wha’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Seunghyun kissed him on the forehead, then dumped a full duffle-bag next to him. “That pain-in-the-ass reporter quit hanging around finally, and Dad’s gone to bed. Time to go camping!”

“…But I’ve got a session with the shrink tomorrow. And then a meeting to-”

“Bunk off. You’re entitled.”

Jiyong sat up, a faint spark of excitement animating him. Sneaking out in the middle of the night like a couple of kids? It was somehow totally appealing right now.

“Where’re we going?” he whispered, climbing out of bed and hurriedly tugging on some clothes.

“Daesung’s granddad has this sheep farm up in the hills,” Seunghyun explained. He smoothed out the duvet and put a note on it. “Totally in the sticks. He said it’s okay to camp there if we clean up after.”

“You didn’t tell Dad?” Jiyong saw Seunghyun grin at him in the dark.

“Nope. He can read my letter in the morning. It’s just you and me, baby. On the run.” The younger man hugged him quickly. Seunghyun always knew exactly what he needed.

“Come on, then. You navigate. I’ll drive!”

 

“I like it,” murmured Jiyong the following morning, looking over the windswept hillside. “There’re no mirrors out here.” He smiled briefly at Seunghyun. “Bet you never thought you’d hear me say that.”

“True,” said Seunghyun, leaning back on his hands. The younger man studied the skyline; the excitement of the journey seemed to have faded now they had arrived and set up camp.

“…Every time I see these bruises I feel dirty.” Jiyong gestured to the lingering mark beneath his left eye where his cheekbone had been fractured; the plastic surgeon he’d been referred to had told him he’d probably need a minor operation if he wanted it gone completely. “I hate to feel dirty.”

“I know,” replied Seunghyun quietly, because it was all he could say, and the fact of it set off that increasingly familiar feeling of rage and misery. But that wasn’t what would _help_ Jiyong, which was all that was important. That was why Seunghyun had absconded with him. “But you’re not. Not to me, or to anyone else who matters.” He took his brother’s hand. Jiyong clung on, not looking at him.

“I love you.” Jiyong spoke louder this time, as if announcing it to the landscape at large. “ _That’s_ what matters.”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Seunghyun fiercely. “And that’s what’s gonna get us through this.”

“Only you and me,” confirmed Jiyong, squeezing his hand. Seunghyun knew what he was talking about.

“She’s not gonna come back around,” he assured his brother. Mina had visited him once in the hospital. She hadn’t been nasty exactly – not the way she was about Jiyong, anyway – but Seunghyun could see she was truly freaked out by the idea that her boyfriend might not be totally together and reliable. That he might have weaknesses that would need mental or emotional support. Seunghyun didn’t know if she was genuinely unable to cope with looking after someone or whether she just didn’t care to make the effort; but after half an hour of awkward questions on her end he had made it easy for her.

“If you want us to stop seeing each other,” he’d said, more weakly than he felt, “I understand. I… I’d like to have someone to talk to.” He knew she’d hate that. “But I should probably stick close to my family so they can…you know…keep an eye on me.”

“So your _brother_ can,” she snipped.

“Yeah,” Seunghyun agreed. And at that she had apparently found it very easy to say her goodbyes. It was the smoothest breakup Seunghyun had ever experienced, and had made Jiyong the happiest.

“It’s just us now,” Seunghyun told Jiyong as the wind blew up the hill and rustled the long grass around them. Jiyong smiled very faintly; it was a beginning.

 

They spent most of the day doing absolutely nothing, sitting comfortably on a log outside the tent and occasionally going for walks. Jiyong’s ankle had healed and his ribs were getting there, but they took it easy. It was the emptiest place – Seunghyun couldn’t even see any sheep – but it had a kind of vegetative prettiness all the same.

As evening drew in Jiyong made them go and collect wood, then managed to light a fire with his Basic Training skills and told Seunghyun to get cooking.

“What would the gentleman care for?” enquired Seunghyun, delving in the back of the car.

“What is there?” asked Jiyong. He was sitting with his arms crossed on his knees, staring into the dancing flames.

“Whatever you want.” Seunghyun considered his supplies. “Provided it involves sausages.”

“Suits me.” Jiyong was far less fussy than he used to be; Seunghyun wasn’t sure if it was because he had grown up or because he just couldn’t summon the energy to care.

He made hotdogs, mildly scorching himself and bits of the food. Jiyong ate in a workmanlike way. It seemed to Seunghyun that his brother’s attention was more on him than the dinner, and wondered why. He wondered if Jiyong was having a good time. Seunghyun himself had found it extremely restful not to have people tiptoeing around him, worrying in case they said the wrong thing. He hoped Jiyong felt the same.

 

Jiyong looked at Seunghyun, who was tidying away the cooking stuff. He watched the firelight play on the older man’s solemn, beautiful face, the muscles in his arms beneath his long-sleeved tshirt, and felt the usual stirring of desire. It had been coming back, stronger and stronger in the last few weeks, and he had done his best to let Seunghyun know. But he didn’t seem to be reading the signs. Out here in the wild, though…perhaps Jiyong could signal more clearly.

Seunghyun glanced over at him and smiled, which was fine. But it wasn’t enough.

“Tabi,” said Jiyong hesitantly, “why won’t you touch me?” Seunghyun frowned.

“I touch you every day, baby. I was touching you five minutes ago.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” With some dismay Jiyong saw his brother’s face go still. Seunghyun _did_ know, and was pretending he didn’t. Jiyong took a deep breath. “…Don’t you want me anymore?”

“Don’t say stuff like that!” exclaimed Seunghyun, sounding appalled. His gorgeous face came alive again and he set the plates down hurriedly. “Of course I want you, I _always_ do! But…”

“But?”

“…I don’t want to hurt you,” the older man muttered. “I don’t want to _scare_ you, with…”

“You mean you feel sorry for me.”

“Shouldn’t I?” Seunghyun looked at him beseechingly. Jiyong pulled a frustrated face. Of course he would feel sorry for him – anyone with common human decency would. He loved that Seunghyun wanted to make him feel safe; but this side-effect was so unwelcome as to be hurtful. That fury Jiyong still hadn’t been able to feel at what had happened to him…it was perhaps in danger of hitting him now; he felt angry with his brother, and it wasn’t even Seunghyun’s fault!

“I’m not the only one who’s been through some bad shit lately,” Jiyong reminded him, tamping it down. Seunghyun clenched his jaw; the younger man reached out to touch his cheek. “But you don’t see me walking on eggshells around you. I know you’re strong, Tabi. Can’t you believe that about me, too?”

“I want to.” Seunghyun covered Jiyong’s hand with his own and leaned into his touch. “I’m just afraid for you!”

“It…doesn’t help,” Jiyong told him gently, but sensed that this explanation was inadequate and was perhaps even causing his brother pain. “Treating me like a victim.” He pursed his lips – it was hard to say calmly. “You can help me more by wanting me,” he tried. “I don’t want my last experience of sex to be… _that_ : a half-empty memory of something terrible.” Seunghyun took a harsh breath through his nose. “I want it to be _you_. The same as it ever was.”

“You want me to help you make new memories.” Seunghyun looked panicked. “I _want_ to help you – I want you as much as ever. But if you’re not ready, I-!”

“…I want to feel clean again,” said Jiyong, and leaned over to kiss him passionately. The older man let out a low sound, mouth opening beneath his. Jiyong nuzzled his nose against Seunghyun’s. “Even if it hurts.”

“But…”

“Everywhere they’ve been…” Jiyong felt his lips tighten in his effort not to imagine it. “I want you there instead.”

“I…” Seunghyun set his hands very gently to Jiyong’s face; the smaller man could feel the shiver in them. Then Seunghyun kissed him, and stopped shaking. “Yes.”

As Seunghyun made love to him Jiyong felt himself slowly let go of the tension, the control that had built up rigid as armour around him. Seunghyun was afraid at first, he could sense it; but gradually his brother gathered up his old confidence until Jiyong felt with relief that he was strong enough to lean on. At the start Seunghyun touched him so carefully, removing his clothing slowly, fingers grazing his body as if he was made of glass. Jiyong kissed him determinedly, pushing his head down so he could feel Seunghyun’s mouth on every inch of his skin, and then did the same for him in return.

By the time Jiyong took the older man in his mouth Seunghyun had regained control, his voice soft and his hands steady and strong. Jiyong felt taken care of, and above all secure in Seunghyun’s desire. He only had a moment’s almost-panic when his brother entered him, afraid that it would hurt and that he wouldn’t be able to cope with it after all. Seunghyun hushed him through it, thumb brushing his lower lip soothingly, not looking away.

“ _You’re my life_ ,” Seunghyun confessed in a ragged whisper above him. “You know that, right…?” Jiyong pulled him down and kissed him, and after that there was no more fear.

They lay in the tent afterwards, one of the sleeping bags pulled haphazardly over them. Jiyong listened to the fresh night wind surrounding them, and reflected. It had taken him a long time to come; he had needed all Seunghyun’s kindness and patience, and while it was wonderful he still didn’t feel normal – didn’t feel like he had let go. Now he tried to decide if he was disappointed or not.

“What is it?” asked Seunghyun, who knew him very well indeed.

“…It didn’t make everything better,” said Jiyong softly. He supposed it was a good sign that he could actually admit it; his therapist would certainly say so, after she had a heart attack about him sleeping with his brother. Jiyong had to smile faintly at that. He cuddled closer, running his slender fingers over Seunghyun’s chest. Seunghyun sighed miserably.

“I know, baby. It’s going to take more than that.” Jiyong leaned up on his elbow at that, and looked at him.

“But it made _something_ better,” he said solemnly. “So let’s not stop doing it.”

 

Seunghyun woke from an uneasy sleep to what sounded like gravel hitting the tent at speed. He opened his eyes; it was almost pitch dark, and as he blearily raised his watch to his face he heard a far-off rumble of thunder. A spring storm, perfect. Seunghyun felt, with justification, that they had enough drama in their lives without the weather getting in on the act. He pushed himself up on one elbow and shook himself awake.

“It’s raining,” he muttered, prodding Jiyong, who made a sleepy noise. “All our cooking shit’s gonna get wet.”

To Seunghyun’s surprise Jiyong sat up abruptly, struggled out of the blanket and began tugging at the tent zip. His usual move was to leave all the manual labour to Seunghyun; this was another way the damn Army had changed him, maybe. Jiyong shot out of the tent, the flap blowing back closed. Seunghyun heaved himself to his knees and stuck his head outside to see what was going on.

He was just in time to see Jiyong pull his sweater over his head and fling it into the darkness. The rain was coming down hard, drumming against the tent and his brother’s bare skin. To Seunghyun’s bemusement Jiyong was now fumbling with his pyjama pants. Then the younger man was naked.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” demanded Seunghyun, yelling through the downpour. Jiyong didn’t reply. He turned his face up to the black sky, fighting for breath, and let the rain drench him. Seunghyun groped for the torch and turned it on. His brother was grinning in the darkness, the first time Seunghyun had seen him smile so genuinely since…since before. As if the torrential rain was washing him clean in a way Seunghyun had been unable to do.

“Jiyong!” shouted Seunghyun, and the smaller man turned at last to look at him. Jiyong held out his hand.

“Come out here, Tabi!!” he called giddily. Seunghyun caught his breath; Jiyong looked magnificent, a wild, elemental creature. “Come on!”

Seunghyun abandoned his usual caution at that and got out of the tent, where he was immediately soaked to the skin. Jiyong laughed – a touch hysterically, Seunghyun thought, but it sounded sweet – and grabbed him, tugging him close and wrapping both wet arms around him. Seunghyun returned his embrace fiercely; it was hard to breathe, the rain was so heavy, so he buried his face in his brother’s neck. Jiyong grabbed his dripping hair, pulled his head back up and kissed him hard.

He was right, thought Seunghyun dizzily: it felt _good_. And with that, to his great surprise, he burst into tears.

Jiyong held him and let him cry. Seunghyun was ashamed of himself, because really, what had he suffered compared to his brother? There was no one thing that had happened to him that merited this outburst of hysteria. It was the buildup of everything, Seunghyun realised: his fear for Jiyong’s safety and happiness; his self-accusation about not taking better care of him; the creeping unease over what had happened with the pills; and the impotent rage that was constantly with him, because he knew he could not get justice for his brother, and they would now have to spend their lives lying – feeling _guilty_ , for God’s sake – about the appalling crime of which Jiyong was the victim.

“It’s okay, Tabi,” crooned Jiyong in his ear, over the hammering of the rain. “You and me, we’re better than all of this…” He cupped Seunghyun’s wet face in both hands. “You’re gonna look after me. And I’ll look after you.”

Seunghyun blinked water out of his eyes and gazed down at the younger man, sobs dying away in his chest. He would never stop being amazed by his brother.

“There’s no-one like you,” he told Jiyong, and meant it. “No-one else in the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you'll be glad to know that things will be somewhat less depressing for the next chapter! Don't be fooled, our boys have a long and difficult road ahead; but it's not all going to be about this, they'll get a whole variety of sources of misery :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jiyong and Seunghyun mix it up a bit :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a sort-of-more-or-less-happy chapter!

They went home and back to work. Seunghyun returned to his job full-time and Jiyong focused on new material, as well as coaching trainees and writing and producing for other pop stars. YG gave him plenty to do, but only projects that kept him out of the public eye. Jiyong knew that if he tried to return to his full star persona too early he would catch serious heat from other idols’ fans and the conservative public for ducking his military duties. He was content enough to wait; he was taking tentative steps towards wellness again, but Seunghyun insisted that they didn’t rush.

The older man was much better. Jiyong kept a careful eye on him, but was happy that he had his big brother to lean on again when he needed it. He had missed Seunghyun so much that every sight of him was like a pleasant shock to the system, and now his libido had reawakened Jiyong took every opportunity to get him in bed. It was for this reason that they had moved out of the family home soon after returning from their camping trip: Jiyong just couldn’t keep his hands off his brother. He felt that every time Seunghyun made him come he regained something fundamental of himself; it didn’t always happen, but that didn’t stop them trying. Both of them had been happy back at the big house with their father. But they were grown men now and couldn’t sneak around like teenagers while everyone was out.

Jiyong announced that he would take the opportunity to have his apartment redecorated, so it was only natural that he move in temporarily with Seunghyun.

“It’s really nice, Tabi,” he said admiringly, as they dumped his many cases in Seunghyun’s entrance hall. Seunghyun had let his eye for design run to its full potential while Jiyong had been away. Jiyong knew the older man was quite wealthy – he had a sizeable stock portfolio, although he would never tell Jiyong how much – but it wasn’t the expense of the interior that delighted the eye, it was the elegance and eccentricity. Seunghyun took his hand and led him through the apartment.

“I had to do _something_ while you were away,” his brother pointed out. “Guess I need beauty around me. And with you gone I had to make my own!”

“Smooth,” said Jiyong, grinning at him. Seunghyun gave him the tour, and kissed him every time he praised something, so Jiyong ended up being very complimentary. The apartment was what Jiyong thought of as twenty-first-century Deco: cool but classic. There was one of G-Dragon’s more artistic posters on the living-room wall in a frame. “Really, you’re so good,” admired Jiyong, flopping down on the Sottsass (whoever that was) sofa.

“Well.” Seunghyun sat beside him and slung an arm comfortably around his shoulders. Jiyong was feeling good: his ribs didn’t ache at all now, and it was so nice to have Seunghyun embrace him openly like this.

“Will you do my place?” asked Jiyong suddenly. Seunghyun looked at him, surprised.

“Seriously? Baby, you can literally afford to have Phillipe Stark come paint your apartment himself.”

“I don’t know who that is.” Jiyong slid his arms around Seunghyun’s waist. “Anyway, _you_ know what I like!”

“Unfortunately,” said Seunghyun teasingly.

“You saying I’ve got no taste?!” demanded Jiyong in mock outrage. He knew his style sometimes looked like he had more money than sense, but he thrived on the bright colours and craziness of it.

“Nope.”

“Just no class,” said Jiyong, tickling Seunghyun under the chin until he laughed. “But honestly, you can do what you like with it, Tabi. Spend what you like, I trust you.” Seunghyun looked at him very fondly, then kissed him.

“All right. We can go round tomorrow night and have a look. Then I’ll think up some concepts and we can take it from there.”

Jiyong beamed, happy that he still could. He wanted Seunghyun in every part of his life, inseparable from it. And this would be fun.

 

* * *

 

 

Life with Jiyong in his home was great, Seunghyun found. He hadn’t really expected anything less when his brother had agreed to come stay with him, but it was even better than he’d imagined. With Jiyong’s schedule the most relaxed it had been since he was a teenager they had long evenings and weekends together, staying in or going out discreetly to socialise with mutual friends. Jiyong would bring him back after those nights on the town and they’d fall into bed together with no worry about being caught or one of them having to get out in the morning.

Seunghyun was enjoying himself; he hoped Jiyong was too. He suspected the younger man was frustrated with not being able to work properly; Jiyong’s self-esteem was deeply entwined with his career, and Seunghyun had seen him sighing discreetly while Youngbae filled him in on what was happening with their colleagues and juniors. Seunghyun prayed that it wouldn’t be long before Jiyong could take his rightful place on the stage again.

He did worry, still. He loved sleeping in the same bed as Jiyong, but it wasn’t only a pleasure now, it was a necessity: his brother had bad dreams. Not every night and never anything he could put into words, but Seunghyun would sometimes snap into wakefulness to find Jiyong rigid and panting, hand over his mouth to keep himself silent and avoid disturbing the older man. Seunghyun could usually calm him down with soothing murmurs and cuddles; but it ruined his own sleep, and he would lie there the rest of the night grinding his teeth impotently and thinking about what he’d like to happen to the anonymous scum who had damaged his brother so profoundly. At times like that Seunghyun didn’t want to be sober. But he didn’t trust himself to drink, not yet; not the amount it would take to wipe _that_ from his mind, anyway. He didn’t want himself doing something stupid again.

Sex helped. Seunghyun had been very unsure of that, up at the campsite that first time. He’d been afraid it would trigger something to hurt Jiyong; maybe even make his little brother fear him. Sometimes Seunghyun wondered who he was really afraid for: Jiyong or himself? That wasn’t a pleasant thought; he didn’t like to think of himself as so selfish. He was relieved beyond belief every time the sex was good. He had to work very hard to make it pleasurable for his brother but Jiyong insisted on doing it, so he didn’t really have a choice. And gradually he worried less.

That night he was leaning over Jiyong’s back protectively, one arm round his waist and three fingers inside him, whispering endearments in his ear and kissing him at the end of every sentence. Jiyong had already given him one of his spectacular blowjobs and so Seunghyun was free to focus everything on the smaller man’s pleasure, stimulating his prostate repeatedly while Jiyong stroked himself; Seunghyun thought it was wise to let his brother take control of that.

He hooked his fingers up and nipped at the shell of Jiyong’s ear. Jiyong cried out and climaxed hard, and lay there on his stomach panting happily while Seunghyun stroked him into calm with one hand on his back. Seunghyun was glad every time he could make Jiyong come these days; it was a series of small steps in the right direction, towards freeing his brother’s body from the shadowy gaps in his memory.

“…Does it really feel as good as all that?” asked Seunghyun curiously. He was always amazed by Jiyong’s reactions; no matter how many times they did it like this Jiyong seemed to find the experience of Seunghyun’s fingers ludicrously pleasurable. Jiyong rolled over, then looked him in the eye.

“Do you wanna find out?” he asked seriously. Seunghyun felt himself blush scarlet; he hadn’t meant anything of the kind! But Jiyong was gazing at him now, all of a sudden intent, and Seunghyun could see a spark of enthusiasm in his brother’s black eyes. More than that: a gleam of longing.

“I…” Seunghyun went even redder. “All right.”

“You’re not just saying that?” Jiyong pressed him, breathlessly. The excitement on his beautiful face was the most welcome thing Seunghyun could imagine. And the most seductive.

“Yeah,” he said, in a voice that was only a little hesitant. “If it’s you, I want to.”

“I do as well,” Jiyong confessed.

“When?”

“Steady!” exclaimed the younger man with a giddy huff of breath. “I’ve gotta psych myself up before I do something so…so…” He smiled at Seunghyun’s deepening blush, then leaned up and kissed him. “But soon.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was nervous and excited; he wasn’t sure either of those was the right frame of mind in which to approach such a delicate act, but there was no help for it, not now Seunghyun was freshly showered in his bed and watching him so eagerly. Jiyong knew his brother must be nervous too – he was sure Seunghyun would never have mentioned it if Jiyong hadn’t first. That meant he had a responsibility to keep him safe and happy throughout. Oddly, Jiyong found that a comfort.

“Thank you for dinner, Tabi,” he said sweetly, and proceeded to take his clothes off slowly, as the older man liked it. Seunghyun had taken him out to one of his favourite restaurants, then drunk quite a lot of makkori, which had to be a testament to his apprehension. Now Seunghyun was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at him, those big brown eyes wide and admiring. Jiyong smiled and climbed naked into his lap. Seunghyun’s strong arms went around him and Jiyong leaned down to kiss him; was his brother a little more hesitant than usual? Jiyong couldn’t tell if Seunghyun was really being more yielding in his caresses, or if it was just his imagination. Either way, Jiyong supposed he ought to take charge.

“Are you sure you want to?” he murmured. Seunghyun nodded, then kissed him again, tipping his beautiful head back to give Jiyong access to his throat. Jiyong took advantage immediately, his mouth on Seunghyun’s neck and the line of his jaw, working his way down until he had to slide out of the older man’s lap and onto the floor. Seunghyun was hard already, and that helped Jiyong along too. He took Seunghyun’s cock in his mouth tenderly, his hands stroking Seunghyun’s taut thighs.

“Quit that now,” said Seunghyun breathlessly after a minute. Jiyong looked up to see his face flushed, long lashes at half-mast over his eyes. “…You’re too good at it.” Jiyong gave him a faint grin.

“All right.” He stood up; Seunghyun licked his lips nervously. “Lie down, Tabi,” Jiyong instructed gently, trying to keep his voice confident. “That’s right, on your front. D’you think that’s okay?” he added, remembering that he sure as hell wasn’t the expert here.

“It’ll be easier for you,” Seunghyun confirmed, his deep voice sounding a bit odd. He rolled onto his stomach on the bed, and directed Jiyong to stack a couple of pillows beneath his hips. Jiyong sat back and gazed at him with a sigh. Really, there was no-one on Earth as physically attractive as Seunghyun; from the line of his back to the curve of his ass to his strong, slim limbs he was perfect.

“Mmm.” Jiyong made an approving noise. Seunghyun twisted round to raise an eyebrow at him.

“You alright?” he asked, then blushed as he caught Jiyong staring. The younger man could never fathom why Seunghyun was so weird about his body being looked at, but he sure made some adorable faces.

“I’m alright,” said Jiyong softly, and set his hand to the nape of Seunghyun’s neck. “You’re just really really really really handsome…”

Seunghyun huffed out a laugh and settled down, pillowing his head on his folded arms. Jiyong took his time once he started touching him, making sure he was relaxed. He gave him a back massage for a bit – Jiyong was more used to receiving than giving in that area, as in most other areas, but Seunghyun seemed to like it if his deep hum of enjoyment was anything to go by. Then Jiyong replaced his hands with his lips, laying kisses across Seunghyun’s shoulder-blades and down the elegant curve of his spine. He slid his hands luxuriously over Seunghyun’s ass; the older man kept himself fit to keep up with his little brother, and right here he was a freaking work of art.

“…Feels good,” said Seunghyun throatily. Jiyong felt comforted by the assurance; Seunghyun was so thoughtful even now, unlike his brat of a sibling, who focused entirely on his own pleasure at such moments when _he_ was the one on the bottom.

“Kiss me,” murmured Jiyong, running his fingers through Seunghyun’s hair. Seunghyun turned and leaned up on one elbow, his hand cupping Jiyong’s face as he slipped his tongue into the younger man’s mouth. Jiyong let out a small sound of pleasure, and Seunghyun’s long fingers trailed down to caress his throat.

“Give me your hand,” muttered Seunghyun, taking Jiyong’s wrist. Before Jiyong could comment his brother was kissing the tips of his fingers one by one. Then that clever lawyer’s tongue curled around his index and middle fingers and Jiyong felt his arousal shoot up a notch.

“…That’s so hot, Tabi!” Jiyong exclaimed with a gasp.

“Well,” said Seunghyun reasonably, “I learned from the master.” Jiyong smiled at him and gently traced the outline of his perfect mouth, nudging his first two fingers between Seunghyun’s lips. Seunghyun took them in, keeping eye contact as he did so. Jiyong could feel his own eyes widen when the bigger man started sucking on them hungrily; was this what it felt like for Seunghyun whenever _he_ did it? Jiyong grinned to himself briefly; if so, he was better than he’d thought!

“Go on,” urged Seunghyun in a low voice once Jiyong’s fingers were soaked and slippery. “Quit being a tease.”

“I’m not!” Jiyong protested. “I’m just…nervous,” he confessed. He wondered if he would have felt different about this if he hadn’t been attacked; he had felt so powerless ever since, and now Seunghyun was offering him the chance to take real control. He was afraid he wouldn’t be able to do it.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” said Seunghyun comfortingly. “There’s no way this wouldn’t feel good if it’s you.”

“Charmer,” replied Jiyong, grateful. He kissed Seunghyun’s shoulder softly, then carefully encouraged him to part his thighs and raise his hips. Seunghyun was breathing steadily, deliberately; was he trying to reassure himself or Jiyong? The younger man couldn’t tell. Jiyong massaged his buttocks for a minute, taking the opportunity to indulge his urge to touch without being interrupted. Then he very gently slipped one wet finger between them to stroke feather-light circles around the older man’s entrance. Seunghyun stiffened for a moment, then relaxed with a shiver.

“That’s…nice,” he commented, with a slight questioning inflection like he wasn’t quite sure. Jiyong hoped so; he was going by what Seunghyun did for him and how good it felt, how it soothed him enough to allow himself to be penetrated. Jiyong had done some actual research too, on Seunghyun’s computer, but you couldn’t beat learning by experience. He kissed the back of Seunghyun’s neck, then very slowly pushed the tip of his finger inside. He removed it almost immediately, then did it again, just a centimetre or two. Had _he_ ever been this tight? Jiyong wondered in amazement; was he still?

“…It’s okay,” murmured Seunghyun into the bedsheets, his deep voice an inarticulate rumble. “You can go deeper, baby…” Jiyong obeyed; he was very hard himself now; from the sensation of Seunghyun’s body, yes, but also his brother’s beauty and the trust he was putting in Jiyong. Seunghyun was warm and narrow inside; Jiyong bit his lip in worried excitement.

“Second finger,” he warned Seunghyun, aiming a teasing bite at his pretty ear. Jiyong sensibly got the lube out for that – he wouldn’t take any risks with his lover, no matter how much older or stronger Seunghyun was. With two fingers the sensation was much more slippery and very tight, the pressure clamping down on Jiyong’s digits. Was it meant to feel like this? thought Jiyong apprehensively. Surely it would hurt him! But Seunghyun just emitted a low moan and spread his legs further as Jiyong began to slide his fingers in and out.

Once Seunghyun – and Jiyong – had got used to that, Jiyong laid his head against the bigger man’s upper back and took some slow breaths. He was ready to start looking for that marvellous place Seunghyun could stimulate without fail when he finger-fucked Jiyong. He knew what it was, and technically where it was; Seunghyun had given him a website, then walked away in embarrassment. But finding it while making sure Seunghyun maintained his pleasure was very daunting, especially when Seunghyun had so much experience and so little at the same time. Jiyong was honoured to be the first, the only person inside his brother – in fact it was so erotic an idea that it was keeping him hard right now – but it put a lot of pressure on him.

“…Probably up a bit,” came Seunghyun’s unsteady voice. One beautiful eye appeared as he turned his head to the side to look back at Jiyong, who adjusted his fingers and slid them slowly back and forth.

“Are you sure they’re long enough?” Jiyong asked him anxiously; Seunghyun’s hands were bigger than his.

“Yeah.” Seunghyun sounded confident about that, at least. “…It’s not that deep.” Jiyong let out a worried sigh. What if he couldn’t please Seunghyun? “Calm down,” Seunghyun continued in a warm, deep tone, gasping softly as Jiyong changed angle again. “…Even if you don’t find it this time…having you inside me feels good.”

“I’m glad,” said Jiyong simply, and tried to relax. Seunghyun gave him that ludicrously attractive smile and pushed his hard-on against the pillows to get some friction on it. Jiyong was relieved he was still erect.

What felt like a long time later, Jiyong felt Seunghyun give a start and tense beneath him.

“Did you feel that?” muttered Seunghyun.

“What?”

“…Do it again. Exactly the same,” instructed Seunghyun, sounding rather nervous but fascinated at the same time. Jiyong pushed his fingers in at the same angle, and heard his brother moan; it didn’t seem like a pain moan, so Jiyong kept them there, pressing harder. “Shit…!” exclaimed Seunghyun, and his fists clenched. Jiyong’s heart was racing suddenly, and he bit his lip. Had he done it? He massaged the tips of his fingers around the spot, trying to remember what it felt like and where it was, and to his enormous gratification Seunghyun tightened around him and gasped loudly into the pillow.

“ _Ohh_ …fuck, Jiyong…!” he heard the older man groan, a light sheen of sweat appearing on his back. Jiyong was so excited he lost his place, and Seunghyun gradually relaxed beneath him, panting.

“Did I get it?” Jiyong asked. Seunghyun nodded rapidly. Jiyong leaned over him to get a good look at his face; he looked quite shocked at how intense it felt. “See?” murmured Jiyong, kissing his temple. “This is why I _always_ come from your fingers…”

“Christ,” growled Seunghyun in his low, low voice, “I’m gonna…lose the plot if you do it again!”

“…I think I lost it now anyway,” confessed Jiyong. Seunghyun seemed quite relieved about that, so the younger man resumed fucking him like he had been before, smooth and deep, spreading his fingers out to stretch him. It was incredible, how Seunghyun’s body opened for him. Seunghyun shifted, helping Jiyong’s fingers get deeper. He chuckled breathlessly when Jiyong’s hard-on came into contact with his thigh.

“…You wanna fuck me, baby?” he said. At those words Jiyong felt a stab of panic that was both debilitating and arousing.

“What?” he replied dumbly.

“I want you to.” Seunghyun reached back for Jiyong’s free arm and pulled it around his waist. “…I want you close to me.” And all of a sudden Jiyong understood why Seunghyun had said no to him for so long back when they were teenagers; why the older man had been so scared. The idea of being responsible, of not hurting him…it was terrifying.

“ _Yes_ ,” whispered Jiyong fervently against the nape of Seunghyun’s neck. “I want to…!”

“Okay,” said Seunghyun easily. Jiyong could feel his brother’s heart racing beneath his palm, and knew that he wasn’t taking this lightly. He felt a wave of such adoration for him that he could barely move.

“Do you need me to do more?” asked Jiyong, uncertain now. “How do I know if you’re ready?”

“I’m ready.” Seunghyun slid his hand along Jiyong’s embracing arm. “Just go slow…” He let go, so Jiyong sat up and sternly told himself not to hyperventilate. He was extremely scared, of not satisfying Seunghyun, of not being able to control himself…

Seunghyun passed him the lube wordlessly, and Jiyong applied it to his own erection with a gasp. He slid his thumb carefully around Seunghyun’s entrance. At least he wasn’t as big as the older man, so it might be less of a challenge for Seunghyun. But it was the whole _idea_ of it that had Jiyong worried and helplessly turned on. He bit his lip and encouraged Seunghyun to raise his slim hips a bit more, then lined himself up and took some deep, consoling breaths.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Seunghyun, with feeling, as Jiyong began to tentatively push inside. He was so tight! It dawned on Jiyong then that it wasn’t only Seunghyun losing some kind of virginity tonight: Jiyong had never been inside a woman, or another man, obviously. He had no basis for comparison, but surely there was nothing in the world as liberating as this! Now Seunghyun had taken every first he had, and he was so glad.

“…Tell me if you need me to stop!” managed Jiyong. Seunghyun just grunted ambiguously and kept his head down, so Jiyong slowly sank in further. Seunghyun felt very vulnerable beneath him, but strong too; like he was cradling Jiyong in a safe place. Again, Jiyong wondered if it felt the same for his brother when the tables were turned. No wonder Seunghyun acted so protective towards him!

Jiyong was too anxious to feel ecstatic quite yet, but he was getting there. He tried some light, experimental thrusts; Seunghyun made a marvellous noise and Jiyong felt quite dizzy. Working to maintain a rhythm he slid one hand between Seunghyun’s hips and the pillows; he was still hard, just about. Jiyong fumbled some more lube out of the tube and wrapped his fingers around Seunghyun’s shaft, and the sound he made then was even better.

“Don’t make me come yet…!” Seunghyun warned him, one hand reaching back to close over his. “Wanna…feel you inside me first.”

“You leave it to me,” Jiyong told him in awe. He was feeling strong himself now; as though he was capable of looking after Seunghyun, his pleasure and his wellbeing. It was a strangely healing sensation: Jiyong felt capable and possessive and nurturing all at the same time as he made love to the older man, soothing and exciting him by turns. He sensed that Seunghyun had put himself entirely in his hands; it was a mark of trust so profound that Jiyong had no choice but to live up to it.

“Tell me when you want to!” he instructed in a tightly controlled voice, his hand on Seunghyun’s cock regulating his pleasure.

“…You first,” Seunghyun said with a harsh intake of breath. Jiyong leaned down and kissed his hair, then brought himself to orgasm as steadily as possible; he might have lost it at the last moment, snapping his hips rapidly against Seunghyun’s ass, the scent of Seunghyun’s shampoo in his nostrils and his hands tight on his brother’s waist. He came inside him, and the intimacy of it was stunning. Jiyong lay there embracing Seunghyun adoringly for a long minute while he got his breath back, kissing his shoulders, his neck, and nuzzling his ear through a series of endearments. Seunghyun was trembling beneath him, his hands clasping Jiyong’s.

When Jiyong pulled out he replaced his cock carefully with his fingers. Seunghyun sighed and moved back hesitantly onto them, pushing himself up on his knees so he could direct things better and help the younger man out. Jiyong resumed his search for that special spot, and when he at last found it Seunghyun cried out loud, so deep and erotic it almost made Jiyong lose his place again. He began to tease it as his brother directed, hooking up to feel Seunghyun squirm pleasurably and then ignoring the place until the bigger man was least expecting it. Seunghyun had closed his free hand over Jiyong’s, pumping his cock rhythmically as Jiyong’s fingers got faster.

“… _I love you_ ,” burst out Jiyong, pressing his fingers hard against Seunghyun’s prostate and squeezing his cock firmly as he jerked him off. “Tabi, Tabi…” Then Seunghyun came, the attention from Jiyong’s fingers too much to withstand. It looked like a very intense orgasm, and Jiyong was amazed to think that he had caused it. And then very, very proud.

“ _Wow_ ,” said Jiyong at last, wrapping his arms tight around Seunghyun and encouraging him to roll over so he could kiss him more easily. It took Seunghyun a long time to get his breath back to normal, but after a while he tucked his head into the crook of Jiyong’s neck and gave a low rumble that reminded Jiyong of a big cat purring. “Did I do okay?” asked Jiyong. He thought he had, but wanted to be assured that his feeling of competence hadn’t been misplaced.

“Course you did,” Seunghyun told him. He slid an arm possessively over the younger man’s waist. “You’re good at everything, baby. Did you like it as much as…the other way?” Jiyong considered.

“…It was amazing,” he said happily. “If you’ll let me, I wanna do it again…” He felt Seunghyun nod. “But I love having you in me so much, it’s what I always wanted! Plus you can pick me up and toss me around, that’s fun.”

“I’m sure you could pick me up if you tried.” Jiyong thought he caught a snigger somewhere in there, but he didn’t mind. He had always liked the feeling of being smaller than his brother; it was easier to feel completely enveloped in Seunghyun’s protective embrace.

“Thanks for helping me.” Jiyong stroked his fingers through Seunghyun’s dishevelled hair, smoothing it out. If left to his own devices he knew he could never have done it. He felt Seunghyun smile against his shoulder.

“Thanks for keeping me safe.” He raised his head. “You’re very strong, Jiyong,” he said solemnly, looking his brother in the eye. “You know that, right?”

“I guess,” ventured Jiyong. Seunghyun raised his eyebrows. Jiyong recalled the feeling of being inside him, of looking after him and taking control of their mutual pleasure. “…Yes,” he amended, and the older man smiled again.

“Good.” Seunghyun gave his brother a fond smack on the ass, and stretched his long limbs out cautiously. “So, now I get to laze around while you wait on me.” He stuck his arms behind his head and looked at Jiyong smugly. “That’s how this works, right?”

Jiyong laughed, kissed him, and went to make tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Generally speaking I always imagine Seunghyun as a top and Jiyong as a feisty bottom (my favourite kind XD), despite GD being assertive and bossy and TOP being all artistic and fragile and soulful. But I realise real-life relationships aren't always that sexually rigid, and when the chapter started going that way it seemed to make sense with their character development. So, I was surprised but I just rolled with it :)
> 
> Next chapter, back to the drama!


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which time passes with highs and lows, and Jiyong makes a major life decision for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice long chapter to finish up Book 2! Enjoy :)

Just over two years after he entered the military Jiyong exploded back into the public eye with a brand new solo album, a new tour and a new look. Seunghyun took a peek at the first pictures and caught his breath: it was a sleek, dark aesthetic Jiyong and his stylists had created, very adult. There were none of the old grinning pictures. The young man in the publicity shots looked cool and fierce, pale skin and smoky eyes and an expression that with his sharp profile made him look like a bird of prey.

Seunghyun was blown away. Jiyong had been very secretive about his work the last few months, spending hours in the YG studio hidden away beneath a hood and sunglasses. The older man had been worried about him, but here he was looking supremely confident: a strong, beautiful diamond.

The music was different too, less pop and more experimentation, though when Seunghyun was given an album to preview he was surprised by one joyful, upbeat anthem at the end. He knew it would be a hit before he reached the second verse; the rest of the songs made him very thoughtful. You could tell Jiyong had put his heart into the music and the lyrics – Seunghyun thought some of the rap finally approached poetry. But Seunghyun suspected it wasn’t his whole heart, that there were dark pits and painful abysses his brother had left out. Perhaps he had given those songs to other people; or perhaps he was still repressing them.

“What do you think?” asked Jiyong, his face clean and smiling as his car drew up in front of Seunghyun’s apartment after his first new TV performance. The contrast was striking.

“It was spectacular,” said Seunghyun honestly. Jiyong beamed and stretched up to kiss him, shutting the door. Seunghyun thought about his brother’s avant-garde new persona, compared it with the contented, comfortable man in his arms, and felt better. Maybe for Jiyong this would be as useful as therapy.

The impression was strengthened when Jiyong began his solo tour, selling out the biggest venues in Korea. Seunghyun knew that some people would try to get tickets out of morbid curiosity at how this little pop star had bounced back from his tumultuous year, but most of the audience seemed dedicated fans; he had taken to following Jiyong’s social media again, while his brother had completely cut himself off from it.

The majority of Jiyong’s concert set showed off his mesmerising new persona: it was G-Dragon reborn, and the old charm mixed with his current intensity was getting rave reviews. Seunghyun stood there in the special roped-off area for invited guests, trying not to show too much excitement as his brother shook his perfect little booty and got all the women going. That was par for the course. What surprised Seunghyun was the middle of the set, the first time he went to see for himself. Jiyong returned to the stage after his break without much fanfare, his heavy eye makeup wiped off and his black hair brushed out naturally. He sat down on a platform that extended out into the crowd and began to talk.

It was mostly lies; of course it was. Jiyong talked about his accident and his subsequent illness, and how supportive everyone had been. But among the lies was a lot of truth, and Seunghyun came to understand that for his child-star brother this _was_ therapy. Jiyong described his unease at leaving the military early, how much of a relief it was to have the love of his family and fans to lean on, and how he had struggled for the last year with the direction he wanted his work to go in; how much of himself he should put in it.

“But I decided,” said Jiyong quietly to his captive audience, “that I hide too much. I always have. I’m not saying GD isn’t real,” he continued with a flash of his famous grin. “He is. But there’s a lot of me…a lot of Jiyong…that I hold back from him. From _you_. But I don’t wanna do that this time!” Seunghyun heard the cheers rise, felt the fans’ support and adoration. No wonder Jiyong had come back to this. He thrived on it.

“It’s not all good stuff,” Jiyong warned them honestly. “I can be shy, and I can be sneaky, and possessive, and I have a really dumb sense of humour.” Laughter. Jiyong got to his feet. “But if you guys will listen…I want to sing you the real me.”

The lights went down to an approving wall of applause. Seunghyun sighed, truly moved. He was right. Jiyong the workaholic was right: there was nothing better he could be doing than this.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong eventually moved back to his newly-decorated apartment, and Seunghyun went with him. He was very pleased with what he’d created, though it was still more to the younger man’s taste than his. Seunghyun thought wistfully that it would be nice to have a space one day that clearly belonged to both of them; he wanted nothing more than to spend every night with Jiyong for the rest of his life. But that was immature, wishful thinking: they ought to maintain at least the illusion of living in separate places, seeing other people. Jiyong had his showbiz friends and Seunghyun had his regular ones. It would hardly do to have them think he was shacking up permanently with his brother.

Besides, Jiyong was so in demand now it would be impossible for him to keep to a regular domestic schedule. His comeback had been a rousing success, bitchy anti-fans notwithstanding, and it had helped Jiyong reclaim even more of himself. Seunghyun thought his brother would never be exactly the same person as he had been before: he was sharper now with other people, a little more wary, a little quicker to get defensive in public. But as far as Seunghyun was concerned the new Jiyong was just as wonderful as the old one.

Jiyong wasn’t the only one moving forward. Six months after his brother’s comeback Seunghyun had made good on a long-cherished ambition and started a law firm of his own. Well, he was the junior partner, but a partner nonetheless. He’d been persuaded into it by another human rights lawyer his old firm used to consult. Park Jiyoo had fifteen years’ experience on him, and being head-hunted by her was quite an honour. Besides, Seunghyun liked her. He talked to Daesung, with whom he had reconnected properly after everything he’d done for Jiyong. His friend thought it was a smart move. Seunghyun’s father gave his approval too, and didn’t that feel good; the older man had at last given up persuading his son to join him in corporate law. So now he was his own boss. It was extremely stressful, but thrilling. And Jiyong was so proud of him.

As busy as they were, it seemed they were seen together in public more often now; Jiyong’s meteoric rise to assume the title of King of K-pop meant more photographs, so Seunghyun had to put up with catching sight of himself when he least expected it in entertainment magazines and on the Internet. Not that he minded as much as he used to: being snapped with Jiyong appealed to Seunghyun’s territorial side in a way he was embarrassed to admit to himself.

His colleagues especially seemed to find the contrast between them amusing: Seunghyun with his expensive, conservative suits standing tall and po-faced beside his little brother, who looked like a fashion god when he could be bothered and a million-dollar hobo when he couldn’t. Seunghyun endured quite a lot of teasing from his senior partner, but at least people were suitably jealous when he and Jiyong took models and girl group stars out. Seunghyun insisted on it: Jiyong _had_ to be caught seeing women occasionally. He didn’t mind; Jiyong belonged to him more now than ever before.

So their new life settled into a routine of sorts, and carried on in a new kind of normal. Until it didn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun was waiting for a call from Jiyoo, who was out of the office and expected him to relay confidential information to her. He picked up the phone, shuffling through a sheaf of forms to find the one he wanted.

“Can she hold on just one second?” he asked his secretary, still searching.

“It’s not Ms. Park,” she said quickly. “It’s an emergency call, you’d better take it!”

At those words Seunghyun felt the blood drain from his face, because the associations they conjured up were horrible: he was hit by a vivid memory of the last time this happened – of Jiyong’s assault, his own overdose, and everything that had followed. He said something in a shaking voice, he wasn’t sure what, and his secretary put the call through.

Ten minutes later Seunghyun struggled into his coat, scrolling up Hoang’s number on his cell phone with his other hand. He didn’t bother messaging Jiyong directly – his brother hardly ever replied while he was concentrating on a job. It was quicker to speak to his manager.

“Yup?” said Hoang, who had picked up right away, as he always did. As usual he sounded terminally harassed.

“I need you to get a message to Jiyong.” Seunghyun strode out of his office and quickly signalled his secretary to call him a cab.

“Can it wait a bit? He’s still filming a CM.”

“No.” Seunghyun took a deep breath. “He needs to get to SNU Hospital right away. Our father’s had a stroke.”

 

Jiyong arrived only ten minutes after Seunghyun, causing quite a stir in the reception area: the younger man was accompanied by his manager and two of his minders, and was still in full couture makeup from his interrupted shoot. Seunghyun beckoned him over hurriedly, having finally ascertained their father’s location.

“Is he okay?!” Jiyong looked more afraid than Seunghyun had ever seen him, so he bundled up his own panic and slid his arm round his brother’s shoulders, drawing him towards the lifts.

“I don’t know. He’s in the ICU now, but he’s awake. They’re sending the doctor to speak to us.”

“I can’t believe it,” said Jiyong in a small, breathless voice. “He’s not even sixty!” Seunghyun gave him a squeeze, and they headed down the ICU corridor.

“It’s gonna be all right,” Seunghyun told him. Jiyong pursed his lips silently, his fine jaw clenched. With a start Seunghyun remembered that he must have seen all this before, felt the same panic when he’d heard Seunghyun was in a coma. That made him feel doubly awful.

A nurse showed them into a room. There were a few beds, but only one was occupied.

“Dad!” they exclaimed together. Their father gave them a wave with his right hand, the left resting limply on the hospital blanket. Seunghyun felt a wall of relief hit him; at least he was moving.

“ _Dad_ ,” said Jiyong, in a low voice he apparently thought was appropriate for an invalid. He took the older man’s hand. “What happened?!”

“I’m fine,” their father replied. Jiyong gave him the sweetest smile, and got one in return. Seunghyun laid his hand on Jiyong’s back. He had noticed the older man’s voice sounded a bit slower than normal, but couldn’t tell if it was an effect of the stroke or if it was the drugs he assumed they had him on. “…I was having lunch with a friend and…she said I looked odd, so…”

“Quit talking, Dad,” said Seunghyun, and was given a half-amused, half-frustrated frown. He was glad their father was coherent and knew what was going on; but he looked very ill. The man opened his mouth again, turning with an effort to speak to Jiyong, but was thankfully interrupted by the arrival of the consultant. She shook hands with Seunghyun and Jiyong, seeming not to notice the younger man’s totally extra appearance.

“How’re we feeling, Sir?” she asked their father, observing him carefully. He gave her an eye-twinkle, and Seunghyun sighed; trust him, to flirt at a moment like this! The doctor checked his chart, took a look at his stats, and nodded. “I won’t bore your father by explaining again,” she said calmly. “But if you’d like to step outside I can fill you in.”

“I’ll stay with Dad,” said Jiyong, and sat down, still holding his hand. Their father gave him a slow, fond smile, so Seunghyun followed the consultant into the corridor.

“He’s had an ischemic stroke,” she said. “His left side is very weak and there’s some slurring in his speech, but with luck it’ll be temporary.”

“So he’s going to be okay?” asked Seunghyun urgently.

“With care, we hope so.” The consultant reached up to give Seunghyun a pat on the shoulder. “The danger is if another stroke occurs after this one. We’ve pinpointed the source of the clotting, so we’ll have to do something about that before he begins rehabilitation.”

“Do what?”

“I want to put a stent in,” she explained. “You know what that is?” Seunghyun nodded, and found he was deeply apprehensive about the idea of his father having surgery. “Our success rate is very high,” the doctor assured him. “We’ll keep him in afterwards for observation; then with rehab and some minor lifestyle changes he should be good as new.”

“When are you going to operate?” demanded Seunghyun.

“Tomorrow.”

Seunghyun sighed heavily, then thanked her and went to talk to Jiyong and their father. Jiyong’s free hand crept into his and held it tightly, and for once Seunghyun didn’t care who saw. After a while a nurse came and chased them out, saying the older man needed his sleep before surgery. Their father made a dismissive face. Seunghyun gave him a mild scolding before they left.

That night they stayed at Seunghyun’s place; it was closer to the hospital.

“Just when I thought we were happy,” said Jiyong numbly. They were sitting on the sofa, fingers laced together; Seunghyun knew there’d be no sleep for the younger man that night. “Fortune is a total bitch.”

“He’s gonna be fine, baby.” Seunghyun rubbed his thumb over Jiyong’s. “The doctor said.”

“I know. I know. It’s just…” Jiyong’s voice turned hard. “Going to the hospital and all…getting that message…it made me remember stuff I don’t want to remember.”

“Me too,” Seunghyun admitted. “But we’re all still here, and we’re together. Nothing like that’s gonna happen to us again!”

“Yeah.” Jiyong leaned across and kissed him, then lapsed back into his former expression. To Seunghyun’s familiar gaze he didn’t just look afraid; he looked unnerved. Seunghyun found himself wondering why he had made the distinction, and what it meant. Jiyong sighed. “I feel really…” He trailed off. “Oh, I can’t explain, Tabi. Just don’t go anywhere.”

“I’m here,” said Seunghyun firmly. They sat there until morning.

 

* * *

 

 

The operation went smoothly, as the consultant had assured them, and Jiyong breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps now he would be able to shake off the antsy feeling that had remained after his initial panic had subsided. He wasn’t ready to lose another parent; he simply _couldn’t_.

Their father wanted to go home immediately after he’d come round from surgery, which was pretty typical of him. This time it was Jiyong’s turn to try and give him a lecture. The doctors wanted him under observation for at least two weeks. This naturally frustrated him to no end, but Jiyong completely agreed with them. The older man’s left side was so weak as to be almost immobile, and sometimes when he spoke he sounded like a different person. It distressed Jiyong to see, and he wanted him under expert supervision.

Needless to say their father was bored, and that made him complain. Jiyong could now see where Seunghyun got his awful attitude to being a patient. He or his brother came to visit every day; it was tricky for Jiyong to slip in and out unnoticed, but he wasn’t going to disappoint the man.

One evening he and Seunghyun both hurried round; Seunghyun had had a call from the doctor saying they were going to keep their father in a few more days. He was improving slower than she liked, and she suspected he’d suffered a very mild mini-stroke at some time in the last week. She assured them it had been dealt with, but it put Jiyong on edge again.

When they entered the room, however, they found the older man chatting cheerfully to the patient in the bed next to him, a woman sitting between them laughing and distributing grapes. Jiyong sensed Seunghyun’s interest sharpen. The woman was attractive, probably in her forties and wearing a skirt and twinset that Jiyong’s expert eye recognised as vintage Dior.

“Dad,” said Seunghyun severely, after they’d greeted him. “How is this resting?” Their father shrugged mutinously; Jiyong saw his left side was still stiffer than the right.

“If I’m going to be stuck in here another week I have to entertain myself.” He smiled. “So I was throwing a little party.” He glanced across, and his smile widened. “Oh! How rude of me. This is…”

“Won Bohee,” the woman introduced herself, standing up elegantly and smiling, mostly at Jiyong although Seunghyun’s looks got him a share of its warmth too. “I don’t need to ask who you boys are.”

“Ms. Won is my…lady friend,” said their father, managing to look smug about it even wired up to a monitor. “One of us at least should have one,” he added under his breath.

“Oh!” blurted Seunghyun and Jiyong in unison. Jiyong tried hard not to give his brother any meaningful looks, which would have been simply too rude. Of course their father would have a girlfriend squirreled away somewhere; Jiyong wondered if the man had ever been single. No wonder he and Seunghyun were so good at keeping secrets! From the time they were born they’d had a perfect role model.

It puzzled Jiyong that knowing this didn’t make him respect or love their father any less. Seeing him in a hospital bed scared him in a way he couldn’t articulate, even to Seunghyun; perhaps that made _this_ development seem like nothing at all. He could sense his brother’s discomfort, though; was he wondering about this woman? Was he thinking about his mother? Jiyong took his hand briefly and squeezed it.

“Well, aren’t you two as cute as you look,” said Ms. Won warmly, noticing.

“You should’ve seen them when they were kids,” their father told her in a long-suffering way. “At each other’s throats from morning ‘til night!”

“They’ve obviously grown up a bit since then.”

Jiyong gave her an idol smile and sat down, pulling Seunghyun with him. He foresaw that his brother wasn’t going to be any social diamond tonight. Jiyong understood why, but decided to ignore him in favour of making sure their father had a nice time. Which he did.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you at Dad’s yet?” asked Jiyong, phone trapped between his ear and shoulder as he slid into his private car, arms full of welcome-home presents.

“Yup.” Seunghyun sounded mildly exasperated. “He won’t go to bed. He’s on the sofa. ETA?”

“Like, an hour?”

“Okay. Love you.”

Jiyong hung up and reclined on the back seat of the Bentley. He’d had a busy morning and had been unable to assist with bringing their father home; hearing Seunghyun’s tone, he supposed he ought to be grateful for that. The man was a terrible patient. The nurses spent most of their time telling him off, but Jiyong found himself quite unable to do the same; he was afraid of upsetting him or even bringing on another attack. He supposed they’d have to leave the scolding to Chan-mi.

Once Jiyong had let himself in he gathered that Seunghyun had taken on the task for him.

“I’m not giving you soju!” he heard his brother exclaim from the den. “You heard the doctor.”

“Studies have shown it can be beneficial for strokes,” their father’s stubborn voice replied. Jiyong suspected he was deliberately winding Seunghyun up. “In moderation.”

“Not after you’ve _just had one_ ,” said Seunghyun crossly. “Tell him, Chan-mi!”

“You should listen to your doctor,” said the housekeeper placidly. Jiyong walked in and saw her tucking blankets around their father while Seunghyun lined up the TV remotes, a jug of water and a stack of books within easy reach. The older man was grumbling to himself about how there was nothing the matter with him, but Jiyong thought the journey from the hospital had made him look pale.

“Hey,” Jiyong greeted them, cutting in on the argument. “I brought presents!”

“See, Jiyong knows how to spoil me!” Their father peered at the bundle in his younger son’s arms. “What is it? Liquor? Cigars?”

“Fruit basket,” replied Jiyong, letting Chan-mi take it from his hands. “A healthy diet is most important.” The older man sighed. “What else? Super-comfy dressing-gown, the _Divine Comedy_ – you’ll go through all your books in no time.” He bent down. “Also _W Magazine_ lingerie edition…y’know, for when Dante gets a bit heavy going.” That surprised a laugh out of his dad, as Jiyong had hoped it would.

“Eclectic!” he said.

“Really?” said Seunghyun severely. “You’re not meant to get him excited!” Jiyong smirked at him and he relented.

“Fine, just bury me now,” proclaimed their father dolefully. Seunghyun and Chan-mi clicked their tongues at him.

“You want us to stay and help with dinner?” asked Jiyong, sitting down on the floor by the sofa.

“No thank you,” said the older man, sounding smug. “Bohee’s coming over.”

“Dad!”

“But you can keep me company for a while,” their father allowed graciously. “There _are_ some things we should talk about.”

Chan-mi left them to it, and Seunghyun pulled up a low stool behind Jiyong, who leaned back against his brother’s legs.

“You got everything you need, Dad?” he asked.

“A bit of confidence that I can take care of myself would be nice,” said their father. “But you’re here, both of you. That’s all I need.” Jiyong smiled at him, felt the solidity and reassurance of Seunghyun behind him. He was immensely relieved to see him back home. “All right,” their father continued, rummaging in the fruit basket for grapes, “I suppose we should deal with the legal stuff first.”

“Stuff?” asked Jiyong with a frown.

“I’m not getting any younger.” Their father gave him a pat on the head. “Don’t look so worried, son! I’m fine. But there’s no telling when this could happen again.” Jiyong bit his lip and heard Seunghyun sigh. “It’s important to designate an official next of kin,” the older man went on matter-of-factly. “You’re away too much, Jiyong, it’s not fair to ask you. So I’ve named your brother.”

“It makes sense,” agreed Seunghyun quietly, just as Jiyong was about to open his mouth and protest. The thought of his dad getting sick again – or worse – formed a tight knot of panic in his stomach. It would be worse still if his family thought they couldn’t rely on Jiyong to help!

“And while I had my solicitor in,” said their father, “I did my will.” Jiyong felt Seunghyun tense up at that, like he didn’t want to hear it. Jiyong certainly didn’t want to think about it. The older man didn’t look the least bit perturbed by the topic, and carried on regardless. “You know how it is,” he said to Seunghyun. “Even lawyers tend to put it off; you’re always too busy. Until something goes wrong.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” asked Jiyong, trying to keep himself together. “It’s so…morbid!”

“Not at all,” said his dad serenely. “It’s something everyone should think about, no matter how healthy they are.” He gave his sons a solemn look. “ _You_ both know first-hand how quickly accidents can happen.” He sighed. “Anyway, it’s a very simple one. There’s a pension for Chan-mi, of course. If you two want to keep this house, you can have it. The rest of the estate goes mostly to your mother.” He nodded at Seunghyun. “You’re both, how shall I put it? Filthy rich. I imagine the money means nothing to you.”

“Nothing at all,” said Seunghyun, and Jiyong agreed.

“There’re a few things I want you to have, though,” continued their father. “Some bits from when you were kids.” He gestured at Seunghyun again. “You can have my library – not that the corporate bit will interest you. And Jiyong, there’s some stuff of your mom’s you should get.”

Jiyong froze at that. He felt Seunghyun’s hand on his shoulder, and remembered to breathe again. He hadn’t realized their father had kept anything of his mother’s, other than what he’d already given Jiyong. He hadn’t known he still missed her, or thought about her. He certainly never talked about her, but now the knowledge was making Jiyong well up.

“Thanks, Dad,” he said unsteadily.

“Right!” said their father. “Any questions?” They both shook their heads dumbly. Jiyong wanted to get off the death subject as soon as possible; he wasn’t feeling terribly stable right now. “Okay. Onto personal issues.”

“That wasn’t personal?” asked Seunghyun, sounding rather odd himself. Their father sighed.

“All right, not personal. Call it selfish.” He pointed at Seunghyun. “This applies to you more than your brother, but he might as well stay and hear it for future reference.”

“What is it?” Seunghyun inquired in concern. “Just let us know, and we’ll do it!”

“Here’s hoping.” The older man made himself more comfortable and took a long drink of water. “I’ll keep it brief, because I know this is going to annoy you, and I’d like a nap.”

“Dad!”

“I don’t know how long I have left,” their father stated bluntly. “Oh, don’t look like that. Hopefully decades, if I follow your tedious diet plan! But you never know, and I want to see you as settled as I can. I know there’s no point trying to persuade you to succeed me at the firm,” he told Seunghyun. Jiyong glanced up and saw him looking guilty. “That ship’s sailed, you have your own business now. Besides, I’m training up someone to follow me.”

“Sorry, Dad.” Jiyong knew how bad his brother must be feeling.

“No, you’re not. You’re doing well.” The older man smiled, then turned serious again. “But I would like to know that our family’s going to carry on. I’d like to see you settled down,” he explained, when Seunghyun remained mute. Jiyong experienced a sharp niggle of foreboding.

“I’m pretty settled now,” said Seunghyun carefully. But Jiyong had felt his brother’s hand tighten uncomfortably on his shoulder, and knew Seunghyun was worried too.

“You know what I mean. I want to see you with a good partner, someone to support you.” Seunghyun didn’t speak. “It’s time you got married,” their father said, as if he wasn’t being clear enough. “If you don’t have the time or inclination to sort it out for yourself, I’ll be happy to find someone for you.” Jiyong had to fight hard to suppress a gasp of dismay, but luckily the man wasn’t looking at him.

“…I tried that,” said Seunghyun, far more patiently than Jiyong bet he was feeling. “Remember Mina?”

“That was more than three years ago. You’re what, thirty now. More than past time to get serious, boy!”

“I’m too busy for any of that!” tried Seunghyun stubbornly.

“I told you I’ll help you find someone.”

“Okay, I just don’t want to!” Jiyong kept silent, his hands clenched in his lap. He could feel Seunghyun’s knees trembling against his back. He had thought they were safe from this! He should have known the Mina debacle couldn’t put their father off forever.

“You really want to be a playboy your whole life?” asked their father, apparently unaware of the irony in that. “You don’t want kids?” he said earnestly.

“Kids?” Seunghyun exclaimed, sounding aghast.

“My children are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Their father reached out to touch Jiyong’s cheek. “More than wealth, success, anything. Trust me, you want them.” He looked wistful. “…And _I_ want to see my grandkids grow up. That’s my selfish wish,” he admitted. “That’s what I pray for every Sunday.” Seunghyun swallowed audibly, and Jiyong had to look down at the carpet again to hide his expression.

“…I can’t,” said Seunghyun, his grip on his brother very tight. “Not yet!”

“Who knows how long I have left?” repeated their father, sounding equally stubborn, and eager with it. “Just think about it, hmm? For an old man.”

“ _Not yet_!” ground out Seunghyun, and before Jiyong could raise his head he had jumped up from his stool and strode from the room. Jiyong sat there feeling sick.

“…Well,” said their father, “that could have gone better.” For a minute Jiyong couldn’t reply. There it was again, the stab of remorse at not being able to please him; he couldn’t imagine how much worse Seunghyun felt.

“Tabi’s still really young,” he tried eventually, and heard his voice quiver.

“Not that young,” retorted the older man. “And he’s different from you; his lifestyle can support a family of his own, now. It would _thrive_ on a family; responsibility agrees with him. Besides, he needs someone to look after _him_ , too – I don’t want him on his own, especially after what happened before.”

Jiyong wanted to protest that Seunghyun already had a family, and that it gave him _everything_ he could possibly need. But it would sound too weird, he knew, too possessive and suspicious to even think of voicing aloud.

“…Just concentrate on getting better,” he said lamely. “Tabi won’t be able to think about anything else ‘til you do. And nor will I.”

“You’re a good boy,” acknowledged his father. Jiyong hoped he was at least temporarily resigned; the last thing the man needed was a serious argument with his son. He leaned forward tiredly to press his forehead against the edge of the sofa, and felt his dad’s hand come to rest approvingly on his head. “Just talk to him,” said the older man. “He always listens to you.”

Jiyong closed his eyes and groaned to himself.

 

* * *

 

 

They avoided the topic for two months. Seunghyun could tell Jiyong was feeling bad about it – he bet their father had asked him to intervene – but the younger man clearly couldn’t bring himself to raise the subject. Seunghyun was glad; he couldn’t bear to think about it himself. Marriage! Children! It was a horrifying prospect, and just when he and Jiyong had managed to regain some semblance of a stable life together.

If anything, Seunghyun found himself acting more possessive and protective than usual, as if to blot the memory of their father’s wishes from Jiyong’s mind. He wanted his brother with him every spare moment, wanted to be touching him, and Jiyong seemed eager to oblige; when Seunghyun was inside him he could tell Jiyong was equally afraid of losing him. Seunghyun knew damn well that there was no-one for him but Jiyong. And so he managed to block it out; until their father had another stroke.

It was only a mini one. He hadn’t even collapsed; he’d been at work and they’d taken him to hospital where they’d checked him, given him some extra lifestyle instructions, then sent him home. Seunghyun went round to visit him but had to get back to interview someone for a case. Jiyong messaged to say he’d go over for dinner, and not to worry.

Seunghyun tried very hard to avoid doing so, and managed it until Jiyong texted him later that evening to come and meet him. Seunghyun hurried up to the penthouse, and found a note on the door when he got there: _On the roof_.

Seunghyun pushed open the roof door. There was a kind of garden up there, but nobody used it this late in the year. Still, there was his brother, sitting on a bench and gazing out over the cityscape. The winter air was very clear and you could see a long way, a vista of manmade lights that blocked their view of the stars. Seunghyun sat down beside Jiyong, already shivering. Jiyong opened the blanket he was wrapped in and draped half of it over Seunghyun’s shoulders.

“Are you all right?” asked Seunghyun. “Did Dad get worse?” he turned to look at Jiyong’s lovely profile; the younger man’s expression was hard to read, the curve of his lips set in a determined line.

“…We have to do something about this,” said Jiyong at last, in a low, strange voice. “I can’t deal with it anymore.”

“With what?” demanded Seunghyun, snuggling further under the blanket. Jiyong’s breath was steaming in the cold.

“Dad’s sick,” stated Jiyong. “I want him to get better.”

“Of course you do, baby,” said Seunghyun soothingly, taking his hand. Jiyong grasped it desperately, and Seunghyun felt vaguely that his brother was on the edge of a loss of control like he hadn’t had since he’d been assaulted. “I want that too,” Seunghyun assured him. “And he will.”

“We have to help him,” Jiyong told him, still in that quiet voice. “…We have to do what he wants. He asked me about it again tonight.”

“What?” Seunghyun was instantly unnerved.

“We can’t keep on like this.” Jiyong turned to face him. “Acting like kids, doing whatever we like.”

“Don’t we deserve to?! After everything?”

“Yeah,” agreed Jiyong, and sighed. “But we’ve done it long enough. We have to be _good_ now.”

“…What’re you telling me?” said Seunghyun; he did not want to know the answer. Jiyong pursed his lips.

“I’m telling you to get married.”

“You’ve got to be joking!” exclaimed Seunghyun in horror. He knew Jiyong wasn’t, that was the worst of it. Jiyong shook his head, looking almost as nauseated as Seunghyun felt. “You can’t seriously be saying this,” continued Seunghyun. “You’re the most jealous person I know. And with good reason!” he insisted, when Jiyong opened his mouth. “I belong to _you_.”

“I know, Tabi,” said Jiyong softly. He squeezed Seunghyun’s hand. “I know I’ve always been the one trying to stop _you_ leaving. But this is different.”

“How?!”

“I’ve lost one parent,” Jiyong explained urgently. “And we’ve been lying to this one for over a decade. I don’t want to lose him…and I don’t want to disappoint him anymore.”

Seunghyun knew it. Not for the first time he cursed the urge that made both of them want to please their father, and the sick sense of failure that came with not doing so. He knew exactly what Jiyong was feeling, he felt it himself every time the man brought up grandchildren – but then _he_ didn’t have to cope with the fear of abandonment that had dogged his little brother since his mother died.

“…I can’t,” he said, feeling close to panic himself. “Don’t ask me to.”

“I _am_ asking you,” whispered Jiyong. “We have to at least try. And who knows,” he added, “this could end up being better for you.”

“Better than you?” replied Seunghyun bitterly. Jiyong inched closer.

“It’s like you always said: we’re dangerous. We’re too close, one day we’ll slip up and we’ll get caught, we’ll get _caught_. You’re everything to me, Tabi, I have to keep you safe!”

“That’s just an excuse!” Seunghyun knew it wasn’t the real reason – Jiyong had never been cautious like the older man was, and it sounded hollow.

“I know you love me,” Jiyong continued. “It just…doesn’t have to be in that way. Does it?”

“This is insane,” announced Seunghyun flatly.

“ _This_ is what it is to be an adult,” said Jiyong bleakly, his hand clasped tightly in Seunghyun’s. “We never were, I get that now. Not even after what we’ve been through…”

“How can I do this?” Seunghyun leaned his head on Jiyong’s shoulder. “How am I meant to live with myself if I leave you again?” He heard the younger man sniff.

“Because it’s not about us,” Jiyong told him in a low voice. “For once it’s about not being selfish. I always have been, you know,” he said, resting his cheek on the top of Seunghyun’s head. “I always put myself first. Even when I put _you_ first it was really for me; because I love you, and doing things for you makes me happy.”

“I know, baby.” Seunghyun squeezed his hand.

“So. You ask Dad to find you someone, and you do this properly.” Jiyong was speaking quite calmly now. “…And the day he does, you stop being mine.”

“How can you think that’s possible?!” said Seunghyun hopelessly. Just the idea made him want to cry; the concept of not belonging to his brother sounded as preposterous as… He couldn’t even think of a comparison.

“We’ll make sure it is,” replied Jiyong. “Because this is where we grow up.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well well, we're halfway through at last, with two books to go. I hope you're enjoying it so far; thank you for your patience and support!
> 
> Book 3 will get underway soon :)


	18. BOOK 3: Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys try to do the right thing, and are rewarded with a spectre from the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter to begin Book 3! Some time passes, some actual plot kicks off (*gasp!*).

“She doesn’t have to be beautiful,” said Seunghyun to their father several weeks after Jiyong’s ultimatum, arms folded defensively across his chest. “She doesn’t have to be rich. I’m not looking for another Mina.” The older man was nodding enthusiastically, but this time the sight of his approval didn’t do anything to make Seunghyun feel better; he was too disgusted at himself. They’d had so many arguments since that night, him and Jiyong, but neither logic nor impassioned pleas had changed his little brother’s mind. Seunghyun felt inadequate – surely he could have tried _harder_. “I’d just like her to be _nice_ ,” he continued lamely. “…And have her own interests.” So he wouldn’t have to spend time with her.

“Age? Type? Education?” Seunghyun’s father sounded way too excited at the prospect of getting him married off; he was making notes on the back of a deposition form.

“I don’t care, Dad,” said Seunghyun in frustration. “And, like…don’t rush yourself. I’d rather you took the time to find someone who might really be interested in me. Not my money or my job or my looks.”

“Act sulky all you like, son,” said his father cheerfully. “You’ll see. This’ll be the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

Seunghyun sighed and felt like a traitor, to so many things he couldn’t even pick one. He hoped Jiyong would be satisfied now.

 

“I did it,” said Seunghyun miserably, throwing down his briefcase and jacket in Jiyong’s entrance hall. “I talked to him. He’s gonna start matchmaking right away. Happy?”

“Of course not,” Jiyong replied, and wrapped his arms around Seunghyun’s neck. “But you did the right thing.”

Seunghyun stood there stiffly for a minute; he doubted that very much. He wasn’t sure who he was angrier at: Jiyong for suggesting this, or himself for caving in. But he couldn’t resist for long; Jiyong was clinging to him possessively, soft hair tickling his chin and face buried in his neck. Seunghyun pulled his head back and kissed him, more roughly than he had meant to. Jiyong made a soft sound of discomfort as Seunghyun’s fingers tugged at his hair, but didn’t attempt to disengage. His hands slid down Seunghyun’s chest and over his stomach to draw him closer.

“I’m so mad at you,” Seunghyun muttered honestly, setting his lips to Jiyong’s throat and not caring if he left a mark.

“…I know.” Jiyong sighed, tipping his head back to give the older man better access. “Ohh, Tabi…”

“Think you can give this up?” demanded Seunghyun, pushing him through the apartment to reach the closest flat surface and bundling him down on his back. “You think _I_ can?”

“Not yet…!” gasped Jiyong, as he pulled Seunghyun down to feel his weight. Then Seunghyun was kissing him again fervently, as if it could change anything. Jiyong moaned and guided Seunghyun between his legs, and it was as incredible as always.

But Jiyong didn’t change his mind.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun didn’t know how long they had left. Every day that went by without his dad contacting him was a day of reprieve. That wasn’t a great thing to feel about your father, but he couldn’t help it. He knew Jiyong felt the same, from the way he clung to Seunghyun when they were alone. But his brother had shut down about the whole thing since that decisive night, and now just gave Seunghyun a sick, stubborn look when he tried to refer to it.

And then their father started coming up with potential candidates from his wide circle of friends and professional acquaintances. The first woman seemed too high maintenance, if her glamorous picture was anything to go by. The second one looked like she had no personality. The third… Seunghyun forgot what excuse he gave for the third, but he found one for all of them, and so far had managed to avoid any actual meetings. Their father sighed at his pickiness, but Seunghyun was adamant she had to be _ideal_.

He didn’t tell Jiyong about any of them.

Seunghyun counted two months of sneakily refusing prospective dates and making love to Jiyong as if every day might be the last they had together. But finally his brother cottoned on.

“Dad says you’re being choosy about his picks,” said Jiyong frostily. He had just got back from setting up their father with a personal trainer to help him maintain his fitness. “ _All_ of them.”

“Oh?” replied Seunghyun, cringing inwardly and squinting at Jiyong over the top of his iPad.

“You told me he hadn’t introduced you to anyone yet!” The younger man sounded ambivalent; Seunghyun knew damn well that Jiyong wasn’t looking forward to this, and yet the predominant tone in his voice was anger.

“He hasn’t.”

“Only ‘cos you reject them as soon as he shows you a picture!” Jiyong strode out. Seunghyun watched his perfect form go regretfully, but he returned the next moment with a couple of craft beers. Jiyong downed the first in one go, and the next thing Seunghyun knew the bottle was being aimed in his direction.

“Hey!” exclaimed Seunghyun, as it hit the cushion next to him.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” Jiyong accused, starting on the next bottle. He looked extremely beautiful like this, flushed and scowling, but so cross Seunghyun was far too sensible to try and get near him.

“I _am_ ,” Seunghyun insisted.

“…This is so hard for me,” Jiyong continued. “Waiting, and dreading it…I just want it over with! Then we can try and figure out how to live like siblings, instead of…this.” Seunghyun looked at him mournfully. “ _This_ ,” Jiyong repeated more quietly, and walked over, leaned down and set his lips to his brother’s.

“I like living like this,” murmured Seunghyun, tracing the line of Jiyong’s jaw.

“…Please.” Jiyong kissed him again. “Don’t fuck around anymore; I’ve got enough complicated shit in my life already. The next one who looks decent, you have to at least give her a try.”

“You make it sound like I’m test-driving a new car!”

“You’re not.” Jiyong straightened up, and already Seunghyun missed his warmth. “You’re choosing someone to spend your life with, you’re choosing my _sister-in-law_ ; and you’re going to give it your all, Tabi. For Dad. And for me.”

“All right,” said Seunghyun eventually. “…All right.”

“Thank you.” Jiyong exhaled shakily, and went back out. The front door slammed.

“…Fuck,” said Seunghyun to the room. It didn’t seem to help.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well,” said Seunghyun the following Sunday, when Jiyong came round to his place with traces of eye makeup still on his lashes after some magazine shoot, “it’s done. Are you satisfied now?” He was feeling quite combative; the prospect of dating again, and this time with the genuine intent to _settle down_ , had left him not cold but terrified. He couldn’t help but dwell on the fact that this had been Jiyong’s dumb stupid idea.

“What’s done?” queried Jiyong. He stripped off his coat and smoothed his windblown hair with one of the pristine gestures Seunghyun loved. Seunghyun set his jaw, and Jiyong frowned at him.

“Dad found me someone else.” Jiyong suddenly looked at him properly, and Seunghyun saw him go pale. “I met her today when he made me come to church.”

“…Already!” Jiyong said faintly.

“Her name’s Shin Haewon,” Seunghyun informed him. He wanted to dump all the information on his brother in one go, like ripping off a plaster. “Her mother is something big in tax law. She has a Master’s in landscape design from the National University of Singapore, and now she works on heritage sites. What else?” Jiyong was looking dazed. “She’s smaller than you. She looks nice. Not like extremely pretty, but nice. She’s a year younger than me, she still lives at home, and her parents are obviously nagging her about finding a husband.”

“That would be you,” added Jiyong. He leaned against the side of the sofa and began chewing on the edge of his thumbnail.

“If it works out.” Seunghyun steeled himself. “I asked her out. Dinner, Friday night.”

“…Oh, you did.” Jiyong looked up at him, and Seunghyun realised he was absolutely furious; suddenly, Seunghyun was too.

“ _You_ wanted this!” he reminded Jiyong hotly. “You told me to do it! So I asked Dad for real this time, and he magicked someone up and now you’re pissed?”

“We had no choice!” Jiyong shut his eyes. “You think I’m gonna hurt Dad any more than we already have? Refusing to give him grandkids, letting the family name die out…making him think we’re always going to be alone…!”

“And what about hurting me?” demanded Seunghyun; without even thinking he stepped forward, grabbed Jiyong by the shoulders and shook him, recalling a feeling he had not had for ten years: the feeling of wanting to punch him. Jiyong opened his eyes and glared at him, outraged. “What about _you_?” Seunghyun could tell his brother was about to open his mouth and yell at him; he had seen that expression before. But Jiyong abruptly deflated.

“…We’ve had everything our own way for ten years, more.” The younger man set his fingers on top of Seunghyun’s and looked up at him. “I know this is the right thing to do. Yeah, it’s gonna hurt,” he agreed with some dread. “And I’m gonna be angry for a while, and I won’t like her. You just have to ignore me.”

“Very funny,” muttered Seunghyun grimly, as Jiyong’s thumb caressed the back of his hand. He knew Jiyong was being sensible, and philanthropic, and all the things Seunghyun was supposed to be. The unfortunate effect was that it made the older man adore him even more and drove him goddam mad at the same time.

“…If I was a girl,” said Jiyong wistfully, “ _I_ could have your kids.” That surprised a laugh out of Seunghyun; it wasn’t a happy one, but there was something so ludicrous about the image.

“Yeah, I’m sure Dad would be delighted with that!” He saw Jiyong crook one corner of his mouth up unwillingly. “I’ve _never_ wished you were a woman, baby,” he assured his brother sincerely. “I’ve never wanted you to be anything but what you are.” Jiyong breathed out determinedly.

“It’s what I am that means we have to do this. We _have_ to.”

Seunghyun hated it, the whole idea of it, still. But they could at least get one thing straight right now. He put a finger beneath Jiyong’s delicate chin and raised it to make sure he had his attention.

“I’ll still love you best,” he warned him. “I always will.” Jiyong wrapped his arms around Seunghyun’s waist and leaned against him, his useless anger draining away.

“We can still care about each other, Tabi. That’s not what has to stop,” the younger man reassured him. And as Seunghyun pulled him closer and held him painfully tight he caught Jiyong’s fierce whisper: “Love me best. Only me.”

 

* * *

 

 

Haewon was incredibly sweet, and it wasn’t an act. At first Seunghyun mistook it for insipidity. Compared to Jiyong he found her simply boring; he felt she had no power to either excite or soothe him like Jiyong did, and he was panicky and rudderless without his brother. But it didn’t take long for him to cotton on to her worth. He thought she might be the most genuinely _nice_ person he had ever met, and she was intelligent, too. Her constant good nature with barely a hint of bitchiness was slightly freaky at first, but at last he caught her complaining on the phone about one of her colleagues, which put him back in his comfort zone.

After a few dates it became very hard not to like her. When he took her to meet Jiyong for the first time – at his brother’s own insistence – she was a bit shy, but so obviously friendly and admiring that Seunghyun found himself warming to her even more.

“You really _are_ beautiful,” said Haewon happily over lunch, chin in her hand as she gazed at Jiyong, who had clearly put all his effort into looking extra spectacular that day; Seunghyun wondered whose benefit it was for. “But I guess everyone tells you that. I always thought the magazines and things touched up all the celebrity pictures.”

“They do,” Jiyong replied, preening in spite of himself.

“What’s the most interesting part of your job?” Haewon continued, and she actually did want to know. Seunghyun looked at his brother; Jiyong was making a face like he didn’t know how to feel about this display of friendliness. But he answered thoughtfully, and by the end of the meal was talking with her freely.

For a while after that Jiyong backed off and wouldn’t come out with them again, throwing himself into his work and celebrity social life instead. Haewon wasn’t into that lifestyle – she was a dinner-party and outdoor adventure kind of woman – so she didn’t see much of him for several weeks. Seunghyun asked him why, but he wouldn’t say. Perhaps Jiyong hated Haewon for her niceness as much as he’d hated Mina for her beauty. But the key difference was that Haewon was a truly likeable person, and so Jiyong slowly came around. She was always delighted to see him, too. Once she got to know him she stopped treating him like an idol; Seunghyun was worried how that would go over – his brother could be really catty when he wanted – but Jiyong seemed to quite like it.

So the dating progressed smoothly, partly because Seunghyun kept them resolutely in the friend zone. Haewon didn’t seem to mind; they were becoming close, and the lack of romance was probably even helpful. He found he could really _talk_ to her. Seunghyun’s father was happy to see them together, and was always trying to arrange more of his disastrous family lunches; to be fair, with Haewon they worked a lot better than they had with Mina. Seunghyun’s mother approved too; she only thought Haewon wasn’t pretty enough for such a handsome man. He found himself fantasising about presenting her with the alternative: the staggeringly beautiful, completely illegal option that was Jiyong. The image helped him smile when his mother was annoying him.

Seunghyun himself liked and respected Haewon immensely, though she lacked his streak of eccentricity and moodiness; but perhaps that was what appealed to him. He saw her several times a week now, sometimes as a couple and sometimes with Jiyong, when his schedule allowed it. Haewon knew how close they were, and always asked Seunghyun if he would invite the younger man. That didn’t hurt Seunghyun’s opinion of her any.

Everything was going well; and Seunghyun could not have been more unhappy.

Because Jiyong was adamant: Seunghyun was no longer his. Seunghyun _knew_ he hated it, because he couldn’t imagine Jiyong being any less miserable than he was himself. But the younger man stuck to his guns. That meant the only time Seunghyun could fulfil his physical need for his brother was the platonic hug Jiyong allowed them to exchange whenever they met. Seunghyun threw all his senses into those moments: the smell of him, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his beautiful body – those brief seconds became precious out of all proportion.

As the weeks passed the embraces got longer. Luckily Haewon didn’t mind at all; she was always very pleased to see Jiyong, and quite understood Seunghyun’s affection for his little brother, who made sure to give her a hug too.

“He’s so sweet,” she told Seunghyun again, as they sat in the back of the taxi on their way home from dinner in one of Youngbae’s newly-discovered restaurants. “Are all famous people like that?”

“No,” Seunghyun assured her, smiling.

“When I used to see his videos and pictures in magazines he looked so…intimidating. I was pretty freaked out when Mom told me you were his brother. But he can be that shy!” Haewon seemed fascinated. “And so polite to the staff when we go to restaurants and things. And he really looks up to you.”

“He does?”

“I wish I had a brother,” she said wistfully. “You’re lucky: he’s beautiful, talented, devoted…I hope he likes me. I know you said he does. But since he’s your best friend I’m going to need his good opinion!”

Seunghyun stared at her in amazement. Haewon was clearly one of those people who had no filter at all between their brain and their mouth: they said exactly what they thought. But unlike most people, everything she said was lovely. He was _grateful_ to her for wanting Jiyong in her life. In their life.

“Thank you,” he heard himself say fervently. Haewon looked at him, surprised. Seunghyun leaned across impulsively and pressed his lips against hers. After a pause she returned it.

That was the first time he kissed her. But it wasn’t the last.

Seunghyun felt guilty at first, but it lessened every time. After all, Jiyong liked her too. And this was what Jiyong had _told_ him to do: to make it a real relationship, for their father’s sake. Seunghyun was beginning to think it might just be possible. It wouldn’t be a passionate romance; but Haewon’s innate kindness, and particularly her affection for his brother, more than made up for her lack of Mina’s looks. It was positively attractive; and after a few tries Seunghyun found that he quite looked forward to kissing her.

The only problem was that he had started kissing Jiyong again, too.

Jiyong disapproved, Seunghyun knew it, but neither of them had the willpower to stop. Seunghyun never meant to; it just happened sometimes, when they were at his place or even at Haewon’s together. Sometimes, when Jiyong looked particularly stunning – or tired, or lonely – Seunghyun felt an overwhelming urge to show him he still loved him, that Jiyong was still the most important and desirable person on Earth. At times like that he couldn’t resist catching his brother to him if they had a moment alone, cupping his lovely face worshipfully. Jiyong would warn him off, then gasp and kiss him back quite recklessly, clinging to him until one of them came to their senses.

Seunghyun knew it distressed Jiyong. Every time he vowed that it wouldn’t happen again; it wasn’t fair to any of them. But he simply couldn’t help himself.

“You should move in with her,” advised Jiyong after the latest accident. He touched one finger to his perfect bottom lip where Seunghyun had nipped him harder than he’d meant to – so much suppressed longing, it was difficult to hold back – and hurried away to sit at the breakfast bar, the marble counter a barrier between them. They were in Jiyong’s apartment. Seunghyun had come over to watch the F1 Grand Prix on Jiyong’s ridiculous television, and for once Haewon had declined to join them. She was a patient woman, but Seunghyun supposed there were some things even she couldn’t sit through. So it was just the two of them, and Jiyong had only just woken up in time for the race and had answered the door looking all sleepy and delicious… Seunghyun had lasted an hour before he’d had to kiss him.

“Huh?” said Seunghyun intelligently, still stupefied by the heat of Jiyong’s mouth.

“It’s been six months.” Jiyong leaned his elbows on the bar and sighed. “We have to move this along; Dad keeps asking me if you’re getting cold feet.”

“Hmph.”

“It’s too dangerous, still,” the younger man said, and for a moment Seunghyun had an inkling of just how upsetting Jiyong found these encounters. “I’m trying to be strong, Tabi, but it’s so hard to resist you, and you’re really not helping!” Now Seunghyun felt extra guilty. “You’ve got to put some walls up,” Jiyong continued urgently. “Make some proper ties with Haewon. I can’t do this all on my own…”

“Okay ba – Jiyong.” Seunghyun rubbed a hand over his face and tried to get it together. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I usually am,” agreed Jiyong in a gloomy tone. He looked down. “…Are you sleeping with her?”

“Not yet.” Oh, Seunghyun did not want to talk about this. Jiyong took a hitching breath, let it out slowly.

“Then start.” He raised his eyes to meet Seunghyun’s. “Before we do something worse.”

 

* * *

 

 

So Seunghyun asked Haewon to come and live with him, and without any drama she said yes. Her mother didn’t seem especially pleased that he hadn’t proposed first, but Haewon surprised him with her strength of will in ignoring her parents. They decorated together, mixing her naturalism with Seunghyun’s recent Surrealist vibes. Jiyong gave them a large housewarming present in the form of a state-of-the-art audio-visual system, and seemed relieved.

A couple of months later his new single came out. As soon as he heard it Seunghyun knew that Jiyong was regretting his advice on cohabiting: the song was full of self-recrimination, loneliness, and some surprisingly vivid allusions to sexual frustration that got it banned from KBS. It was a huge hit, and Seunghyun was the only one who understood a word of it.

So, Jiyong was having a hard time. Seunghyun wished his brother would let him know how he was feeling – Jiyong had always been better at that stuff than him, more willing to let Seunghyun help him through his emotional crises. But since his relationship with Haewon had become common knowledge within the family Seunghyun had been left to guess how Jiyong was doing.

The face Jiyong presented to him wasn’t always overjoyed, exactly; but there was a good deal in it of his old idol personality – from the time before his military service and everything that had come with it. Jiyong lately was extremely cute: charming and bubbly and watching the progression of Seunghyun’s relationship with complacent benevolence. It was only when Seunghyun kissed him by accident that he got a hint of what was going on beneath the surface, and now Haewon’s presence had pervaded Seunghyun’s apartment that had tapered off too. As Jiyong had been counting on, they felt too guilty.

Jiyong’s real feelings were these days only revealed in his songs. Seunghyun was tired of having to wait three months and shell out to iTunes to find out how his brother was dealing with each new life development. But there was nothing he could do.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong still took every possible opportunity to be with Seunghyun. It was safer now that Seunghyun had quit trying to kiss him whenever they were alone, and he missed him acutely. They were both busy and had limited free time, so now when Jiyong saw Seunghyun it was usually with Haewon attached. He was always jealous – of course he was – but Jiyong couldn’t help liking her, albeit grudgingly. He was used to her, at least. And Seunghyun seemed just what their father wanted: settled.

Jiyong was with him now, at the family home on one of the rare weekends when everyone was off work. Chan-mi was cooking while Seunghyun helped, and Haewon was talking with Jiyong about some sculptures she had commissioned for her current project. He liked her artistic streak, although it wasn’t quite outré enough for his taste. Their father was walking in the garden with his lady friend – Jiyong supposed he ought to upgrade her status to ‘partner’ now, she’d been around that long. More and more these occasions had begun to feel like family; and if it wasn’t for the deep current of melancholy running beneath everything in his life, Jiyong thought he might almost be content.

“You look so pretty with your natural hair colour,” commented Haewon as Jiyong passed the salad. “I hardly ever get to see it.” They were waiting for the main courses to be ready, and everyone was talking amongst themselves unceremoniously.

“Thanks!” said Jiyong, and gave her a fairly genuine smile; he was still highly susceptible to praise. “You’re looking very cute, too, _noona_.” Well, she was. Haewon would never be a fox, but subjectively speaking her personality made the rest of her kind of adorable.

“Y’know what would be great?” interrupted his father, twinkling at them. “If you found your own girlfriend to shower with compliments!”

Jiyong saw Seunghyun grimace, quick as a flash and gone. He kept quiet. Ms. Won smartly took their father’s glass of soju away and replaced it with tea.

“Jihoo!” she scolded. “You’re embarrassing Haewon.”

“No I’m not, I’m embarrassing Yongie.” The older man beamed at him. “Why not bring one of your supermodels home sometime, hmm?”

“Dad…” said Seunghyun quietly.

“Fine, fine. Just don’t be crying to me when you’re on your lonesome at the Christmas party!”

Jiyong gave his father a bright idol smile.

“Don’t worry. Chan-mi will be my date! Won’t she,” said Jiyong, as the housekeeper approached with more serving dishes. Chan-mi gave him a tolerant push, then sat down beside him.

“Risotto,” she said, lifting one lid, and everyone oohed appreciatively. “Our boy made that.” Seunghyun looked modest. “And spaghetti.” Haewon uncovered the other dish.

For another second everything was normal. Then out of nowhere Jiyong was hit by a sharp pang of nausea, and his stomach muscles cramped convulsively. He slapped one hand over his mouth and shoved his chair back, staggering to his feet; and as he did so a flash of associations sprang from his memory and seared themselves into his senses. He knew he was going to throw up. He ran from the room, away from his astonished family, and just made it to the downstairs bathroom before he was proved right.

 _That_ …he thought as he coughed weakly, retching again. What the hell _was_ that? But he knew; he remembered, or his body did. He put his head in his hands and began to shudder.

Seunghyun found him there a few minutes later, still huddled beside the toilet and trembling all over.

“What is it?!” demanded Seunghyun frantically. Jiyong wiped his mouth with the back of one shaking hand and blinked away a cluster of tears. Seunghyun dropped to his knees beside him. “Tell me what’s wrong! Is it something you ate?”

“…Haewon opened the pasta dish,” managed Jiyong, fighting back his gag reflex at the thought of it. “And I remembered…something. Something from that day.” Seunghyun went very still.

“What?” he said quietly.

It was the smell. Jiyong was sure of it: something in the food had triggered a fragment of flashback. There was nothing visual about the memory, just a brief second of fear and pain; the feeling of hands biting into his hips and a belt buckle jabbing against the flesh of his thigh. ‘Come on, you bitch!’ came a harsh mutter above him; and that was all.

“That smell,” he told Seunghyun weakly, clutching at his sleeve. “Remember?”

“You didn’t know what it was.” Seunghyun was speaking calmly, one soothing hand on Jiyong’s. Only his eyes looked strange. “Can you tell me now?”

“It’s in the food.” Jiyong swiped at his wet cheek. “The spaghetti, I think. Some kind of herb, or…I don’t know. Whatever the smell of meatballs is. It doesn’t make _sense_ , but it’s all I can…”

For a moment Seunghyun only looked at him blankly, his face empty of everything but concern. Then his handsome features twitched, just briefly, before they returned to an expression of angry sympathy.

“Come on,” he said, helping the younger man to his feet and supporting him to the sink so he could rinse his mouth out with water. “Come lie down in my room. I’ll tell them you’re getting over food poisoning or something.”

“Will you sit with me?” Jiyong didn’t want to remember it again. He knew he should, at least to try and place that spiteful, aroused voice. But not now. Despite his old shrink’s warnings he’d tried his best to move past his time on the mountain without ever looking back. And now… _this_. He didn’t want to start this again! Seunghyun kissed his forehead protectively.

“Of course.”

 

Later Haewon came up to check on him, her round face full of concern. To Jiyong’s dismay Seunghyun took the opportunity to duck out and make a work-related call he should have taken care of earlier.

“It’s okay, baby,” Seunghyun said soothingly, again with that strange expression on his face. “I’ll only be a minute. It’s just that this is an important call; someone could get in trouble.” He stroked a hand across Jiyong’s limp hair and got up.

“You’ll be all right with me for a bit, won’t you,” encouraged Haewon, who either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care about her boyfriend’s term of endearment for the younger man. She gave Jiyong a warm smile, as if he was a sick kid instead of a wimp supposedly prostrated by an upset stomach. He nodded. Seunghyun left and she sat down where he had been. “Do you want anything, honey?”

Jiyong managed a smile for her. The affectionate word actually felt comforting; or maybe it was just the calming nature of her presence. For months now Jiyong had begun to have a vague idea of what his brother saw in her – beyond an alibi – and now he could see it too. He held out his hand, a childish request for more affection. Haewon took it with a pleased expression. She sat and talked, nothing that he’d have to respond to, just stories about an antique garden she’d been restoring and the variety show she’d watched last night. Gradually the black flash of memory retreated from the front of his mind, and he relaxed.

It was only when Seunghyun came back, mouth tight and brow furrowed, that Jiyong remembered. He wondered what would happen when he went home and tried to sleep without his brother beside him radiating protective fury, without Haewon’s placid glow of warmth.

He wondered if it was possible to deliberately forget.

 

Seunghyun had found it almost impossible to concentrate on what Jiyong was saying after his brother had told him what he’d remembered. Seunghyun had been so dismayed, useless all over again in the face of Jiyong’s fear. And then Jiyong had said it: a smell. The smell of meatballs.

He left Jiyong as soon as Haewon came up to check he was okay – Seunghyun wouldn’t leave him alone now, not for anything – and went down to interrogate Chan-mi.

“How’s our baby boy?” asked the housekeeper as she loaded the dishwasher. She stood up, hand in the small of her back. “It was nothing I made, I hope!”

“He’ll be okay.” It was taking a lot of effort to sound calm, now Seunghyun was almost sure that he knew. “Let me do that.” Chan-mi moved aside and let him finish. She wasn’t getting any younger. “By the way,” said Seunghyun casually, “what was in that spaghetti recipe? It smelled really good, but with one thing and another I never got any.”

“It’s just beef, breadcrumbs – you have to use real bread in milk, not panko – onions, egg, herbs…”

“What herbs?”

“Garlic and parsley. Oregano. The Italian herbs. I’ll give Miss Haewon the recipe…”

But Seunghyun had already left the room.

With his mouth set in a grim line he went into the garden and lurked by the pagoda. Whipping out his phone he looked up the details for the Army base, and called the number reserved for relatives and acquaintances.

“Is Warrant Officer Ko available, please?” Ko had been a teenage recruit in his troop when Seunghyun had done his own military service, and had gone career once his two years were up. They had always got on okay, and Seunghyun kept up sporadically with how he was doing. He had been assigned to several different bases and two foreign tours in the decade since they’d last seen each other, but now he was back on the mountain.

He had to wait on the line fifteen minutes for Ko to finish inspection and get to the phone.

“Whaddya know!” said Ko cheerfully. He had been a shy boy when Seunghyun had first known him, but had certainly bloomed in the military. “Long time no speak! It must be years.”

“My bad,” Seunghyun apologised. It had been years; not since before Jiyong was attacked. “I’m trying to catch up with a few of the old crowd, and if anyone knows what everyone’s doing it’ll be you.”

“True,” said Ko. Seunghyun could hear him light up; he must be in someone’s office. “Being the social butterfly that I am. Who’re you after?” Seunghyun took a deep breath.

“Lee Sejun. Remember?”

“Oh, sure,” Ko replied casually. Seunghyun was clutching the phone so hard his hand was aching. “He used to hang round with you, didn’t he. Yeah, he’s back here too.”

Seunghyun felt a strange mix of emotions then: fear, fury, and an eagerness so fierce he found himself leaning forward like a bloodhound; as if he could reach right into the phone and come out swinging on the other side. He slumped back against the pagoda.

Italian herbs. The smell of spaghetti. Lee Sejun.

“…You there?” he heard Ko saying. “You want me to tell him you called?”

“No,” said Seunghyun quickly. His voice sounded strange. “That’s okay. What about…that other guy who was always with him? Ji Minjun.”

“Ahh.” Ko’s voice dropped low enough for gossip. “That, now, that’s more interesting!”

“…Oh?”

“Got discharged,” his cohort-mate informed him, sounding pleased. “Dishonourable. Got caught stealing from the top brass’s office. Twice!”

“He had an awful gambling problem.” Seunghyun felt his mouth stretch into a smile quite different from any he had ever cracked before. Minjun was out of the Army and wandering around Korea, unsuspecting and unprotected. That should help.

“Anyone else?”

“No,” said Seunghyun, absently. When he looked down he saw the hair on the back of his wrists was standing up – a dog with its hackles raised. He breathed in carefully; he’d have to sit down before he fell down. “Cheers for letting me know. Hope you’re doing well, by the way.”

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” Ko laughed at him. “Kind of surprised you wanna know about those guys, mind. Don’t you think you’ve come a bit farther than that?” He snorted. “I know I have.”

“Right. Well, thanks for your time.” Seunghyun hung up before he said anything stupid; before he let it slip to Ko that, for the first time in his life, he had the sincere urge to destroy another human being.

Lee. Ji Minjun. Finally…after more than two years he had somewhere to begin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tend to think of this book as "the one where Jiyong tries to be sensible and Seunghyun is emphatically not." On the other hand he _is_ melodramatic, so...there you go.
> 
> By this point in writing the draft they'd got a teeny bit out of my control and started doing things I'd never envisioned when I first dreamed it up (especially Seunghyun, who was originally meant to be logical and reliable and basically Jiyong's rock). But after what I made them go through in the previous book I guess I can't blame them for how they act now ^^;


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun encounters an old face, while Jiyong tries to get on with things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuing right where we left off the previous chapter.

“You want me to drive you home?” asked Seunghyun, bundling Jiyong up in his jacket. “I could stay with you.” Jiyong shook his head mutely. Much as he feared being by himself, right now he was too desperate for comfort to be alone with Seunghyun; he couldn’t risk the possibility that something might happen.

“Come back to ours, then,” Haewon suggested as she zipped her pale blue parka and hugged Jiyong’s father goodbye. “You look pretty peaky.” Seunghyun slid his arm around the younger man’s shoulders; Jiyong could feel the tension vibrating through the limb, and knew that Seunghyun was still very angry.

“Okay,” he said quietly.

That night Haewon put Jiyong to bed in the spare room. An hour later he was out of it again, unable to sleep and as unwilling to try as he had been in the days following his assault. The sickening little flashback kept playing through his head, a few more details added each time to its sightless entirety. If he went to sleep now, what else might he dream?

He wrapped the duvet around himself and padded back to the comfortable living room, settling down cross-legged on the sofa. He wanted to forget, and knew he ought to try and remember. More than anything he wanted Seunghyun.

As if in answer to this silent summoning his brother appeared from the dark hallway, his hair dishevelled.

“I thought you’d be awake.” He sat down next to Jiyong, and without the younger man having to ask he wrapped both arms around him, so tight it almost hurt but Jiyong didn’t care. He clung to Seunghyun’s bicep and leaned into him. “It’s okay,” Seunghyun continued in a murmur, his deep voice soothing. “You’re safe with me.” Jiyong inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of him helping to chase away the phantom stink of herbs.

“I oughta go back to the shrink,” he said numbly. “You know how hard it was last time to get me to sleep.” He had needed Seunghyun with him every night for months after he’d left the military. “I suppose I should talk to her.”

“Why not talk to me?” asked Seunghyun in a soft voice, pressing a lingering kiss to Jiyong’s temple. The next thing Jiyong knew Seunghyun’s mouth was hovering close to his. He turned away, just slightly, silently kicking himself for doing so. Seunghyun retreated enough to be safe and Jiyong breathed again. “Sorry, baby,” whispered Seunghyun penitently, and tucked the younger man’s head against his shoulder. “Sorry, darling…” His fingers were in Jiyong’s hair, stroking gently.

“It’s okay.” Jiyong felt his chest begin to ache; it was sweet to hear his brother speak like this, even though he could tell Seunghyun was still furious.

“…Can you tell me anything else you remember?” suggested Seunghyun, like he was coaxing a testimony from a reluctant witness. “Only if it won’t hurt you.” Jiyong considered that, as it hurt anyway whether he spoke or not, he might as well. Maybe it would help.

He told Seunghyun everything he could recall. It was difficult; being blindfolded had limited his memory to sounds and smells and touches, which were much harder to describe than visual images and gave the short account a kind of fuzzy, nightmarish quality.

“You didn’t recognise the voice?” probed Seunghyun. Jiyong shook his head. He thought vaguely that it was someone he had known; but then he knew so many men in the barracks, at least to listen to. The other people he couldn’t place at all, but he was sure now there was more than one of them.

“…That’s it,” he said, feeling empty.

“All right, baby.” Seunghyun kissed the top of his head. “You tell me if you think of anything else. Come to me any time you need me; okay?” Jiyong nodded, regaining a sense of at least partial security in the circle of his brother’s arms. “I’m gonna help you fix this.”

“How?” asked Jiyong. He knew it was a platitude; there was nothing Seunghyun could do with these few scraps of memory. Maybe he _should_ start seeing his therapist again.

Seunghyun didn’t reply. He just tucked the duvet around both of them, and they sat huddled together until Haewon got up to do her yoga.

Jiyong wished he could stay here. But so long as he had Seunghyun to lean on perhaps things would be okay.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun felt terribly sorry for Jiyong in the days that followed, but knew his brother didn’t want pity; he just needed to feel safe. Seunghyun fought against the urge to keep him wrapped up tight and held close – they couldn’t afford that, not unless they wanted people around them to suspect something was wrong. So Jiyong went home and bravely carried on with his life, while Seunghyun acted like everything was fine in public and tried his best not to treat Jiyong like a complete victim in private. To his surprise it was going better than he had feared.

It was easier to put pity on the back burner, realised Seunghyun, when you were so full up with righteous fury it was hard to feel anything else. For several days it was utterly debilitating – he would go to work and sit in his office physically trembling with anger. Only Haewon and her mild affection seemed to calm him down enough to function. But eventually he was ready.

“I gotta go a bit early,” Seunghyun told Jiyong a week later, getting up and setting a hand fondly on his brother’s head. It was a Thursday night and he’d spent some time at Jiyong’s place, feeding him and making sure he was okay – to reassure himself as much as Jiyong. The younger man nodded silently. He looked anxious, of course, though that might be from lack of sleep; Seunghyun wondered if he had remembered anything else. If so, he wanted to know. But he found it hard to ask tactfully, and tonight he really didn’t have time. He left Jiyong with strict instructions to message him if he needed anything, and to sleep at their father’s house if he got nervous.

“I might go clubbing,” said Jiyong, with a wisp of a smile. “Seungri asked me to watch him DJ. So I won’t be doing any sleeping, probably.”

“Hmm.” Seunghyun wasn’t sure that was a great idea in his brother’s condition; but he wouldn’t presume to know what was best for Jiyong, so he kept his mouth shut.

“Text me!” called Jiyong to Seunghyun on his way out, in a certain tone of voice that pointed to his nervousness. Seunghyun nodded, and went about his business. He didn’t want to, with Jiyong like this. But he had an appointment: he was meeting a private detective.

Once Seunghyun had got over his rage enough to be able to think, he had begun to plan. He knew two things for definite: one, that Lee Sejun had raped his brother. And two, that Ji Minjun went along with everything Lee did. They had the same values, the same humour, the same dirty fucking minds. Lee had always liked to be the centre of attention – the guy in control. Minjun was his audience; there was no way he hadn’t been involved.

What Seunghyun didn’t know was practically everything else. He didn’t know where Minjun was now, or who the other men had been – it was more than just the two of them, the hospital report had said so. He didn’t even know what he was going to do once he found them. He didn’t know why any of this had _happened_. The only person he was certain of was Lee. He’d be the leader, Seunghyun was sure. But the bastard was sitting pretty in the safety of his Army base, protected by his position; there was no point alerting him to the fact that Seunghyun was on to him yet.

The first step, then, was to find Minjun and force him to spill what he knew. The method of making him talk would depend on what kind of life the little shit was leading; and that was where the private investigator came in.

“Exactly what kind of information are you looking to find out?” inquired Gil in a calm, boring voice that was hard to make out beneath the bustle of the busy café. Seunghyun mildly liked the look of him – chubby, going slightly bald but with a tamped-down aura of energy that belied his monotone. He was glad he’d asked Daesung for the recommendation. The PI had listened to Seunghyun’s description of Minjun, had logged away his name, old unit and date of discharge. It was all Seunghyun had to go on, but Gil didn’t seem to think that would present a problem.

“I want to know what kind of circumstances he’s living in,” Seunghyun told him, reining back his anger. He didn’t think his façade of cool was fooling the older man, but then it was his job to spot things. “Especially any difficulties: criminal, financial, relationship problems. Whatever. Anything I can use when it comes time to have a talk with him.”

“All right.” The PI gave him a considering look, then popped his phone back in his jacket pocket and drained his cup. “You read the expenses breakdown, right? For working overnight, hiring extra people and so on?” Seunghyun nodded.

“Use what you need to. I mean it: absolutely as much as you like. Money isn’t a consideration at all.” He would spend his savings like water if that was what it took.

“My favourite type of client. I’ll be in touch.” Gil nodded at Seunghyun, then slid out of the booth and strolled off.

Seunghyun sat for a while longer, trying to reconcile his feelings of animus with the uncomfortable awareness that private investigations often trod very close to illegal activity themselves. As a heretofore upstanding lawyer, he didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. Well, he would just have to minimize getting involved with anything in that line. And besides…

He felt his phone go off, derailing his train of thought. Seunghyun extracted it from his pocket and saw Haewon had messaged him, asking him to be quiet when he came home because she was going to bed. And not just Haewon, Jiyong too – several times. Seunghyun had been so nervy and intent on his discussion with Gil that the vibrations hadn’t caught his attention.

_U wanna come meet me?_ read the first message, sent at least two hours ago. _Seungri’s actually not bad_. Seunghyun shook his head and scrolled down. _Could u call me, Tabi?_ was the next one. _I know ur busy, but_. It cut off. He felt an immediate spike of guilt – that had been an hour ago, and Jiyong wouldn’t have asked him unless he really needed it. _Think I will go sleep at Dad’s_ , ran the final message. _Ignore the above. c u tmrw_.

Seunghyun looked at the smiley emoji and scowled to himself. He quickly paid for the drinks and hurried out, already calling his brother.

“Are you okay?” he demanded, when Jiyong picked up after the third ring.

“Yeah,” said Jiyong. “I’m in bed, in your room.” He didn’t sound sleepy.

“Your texts sounded worried. Sorry, I only just checked my phone.” There was a pause.

“I’m fine now. I just felt…I dunno, weird. Maybe too many people, too dark; it was packed.”

“Next time I’ll come get you,” Seunghyun promised, meaning it. “Or we can go out together, whatever you want.”

“It’s good to hear your voice,” came Jiyong’s sweet tones, still with the note of tension Seunghyun had detected before. “Helps me sleep, that’s all.”

“You saying I’m that boring?” Seunghyun teased, hoping to get a laugh. He heard Jiyong huff softly down the phone. “I can come over now,” the older man offered. But Jiyong demurred, pointing out that it was gone midnight and both their father and Haewon would be less than pleased.

“…But I can see you tomorrow, right?” asked Jiyong. “My schedule should finish around eight.”

“Course! Come over, Haewon’ll feed you.”

“Sweet. Night then, Tabi,” said Jiyong.

“Sleep tight.” Seunghyun hung up and sent him a cute Line sticker for good measure. He’d have to be careful, he warned himself, that his extra-curricular activities didn’t get in the way of supporting his brother; Jiyong needed him now more than ever. Still, Seunghyun felt a certain stirring of anticipation: soon enough Minjun might be in his sights, and then he could _really_ do something for Jiyong.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong hadn’t thought much about it when Seunghyun didn’t message him back. He’d said he’d be busy, hadn’t he? Besides, at the time Jiyong was too intent on getting somewhere safe to resent Seunghyun’s minor lapse in communication skills. He had felt very strange, there in the unusually dark club while Seungri was busy. He hadn’t wanted to be alone, granted; but the blackness and the press of bodies around him – and of course everyone _did_ want to be around him – had made him feel as though the building was folding up on itself, compressing the scene down to the size of his flashback until it was just blindness and the claustrophobia of someone else’s bodyweight.

Going to bed in Seunghyun’s old room had made him feel better right away, and hearing his brother’s voice was the icing. The next day Seunghyun spoiled the hell out of him, messaging him all morning and turning up at the YG building in one of his swanky lawyer suits to drag him out of his studio and into the cafeteria. Seunghyun was so attentive it was delightful and almost annoying at the same time; Jiyong was in music mode, and the older man was distracting him from his angsty artistic vibe.

“Sorry I didn’t text you back,” Seunghyun apologised again that night, while Haewon was being creative with dessert in the kitchen.

“I said it was fine, Tabi.” Jiyong shot him a look, and caught Seunghyun glancing back at him, brow furrowed worriedly. “I’m okay,” he assured him. “No bad dreams, not in your bed.” He wondered why Seunghyun was looking quite _so_ guilty about forgetting to check his phone; it wasn’t that he’d meant to. Surely. And he was being super sweet now.

“I’ll be more careful,” his brother promised him. Jiyong swatted him dismissively on the arm and got up to help Haewon with the dessert dishes. He was glad to be here – with Seunghyun, of course, but with his _girlfriend_ too. That wasn’t something he’d ever thought he would admit to, but there it was: he felt safe here. Most of that was Seunghyun, the warmth that came from knowing the bigger man loved him and had his back; but perhaps she had something to do with it too. No, she _did_. Jiyong liked it here. He wondered how soon he could get them to invite him again – without him looking desperate.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hold on a sec.” Jiyong raised a hand to pause Hoang mid-story, and dug his phone out of his bag. His manager sighed patiently – he had become a lot less prickly over the years – and leaned back against the seat of the town car. Jiyong thought the buzzing might be a message from Seunghyun; lately his brother would text him whenever he got a spare moment, every day. He vacillated between exasperation and affection on receiving Seunghyun’s numerous concerned messages, but he welcomed this one; he was having a tough evening.

_You found it?_ he read. _Brilliant! Let’s meet_. It _was_ Seunghyun. Jiyong frowned, puzzled, and messaged back with a question mark. A minute while Hoang finished his anecdote and badgered the driver to hurry up. Then Seunghyun replied.

_Sorry_ , his brother wrote, _wrong person! I’m gonna see you tonight, right?_ Seunghyun never used text-speak. Jiyong checked with his manager, sighed, and tapped out a response.

_If u don’t mind late. MV shoot delayed 3 hrs cuz Seungri sprained wrist! Sry :(_

_Course_ , replied Seunghyun immediately. _Don’t have work tomorrow, so as late as you like_.

Jiyong smiled at his phone. Having his schedule set back had put him in a tired, irritated mood, but if it meant Seunghyun would stay with him late, hopefully until he got sleepy…well, that would be awesome. Sure, it could be risky to have the older man around at night, alone. But it would be okay – Jiyong could handle it. He _could_.

 

But when Jiyong was eventually done filming and had sent Seungri on his way with a hug and a telling-off for being so clumsy – his junior needed regular scoldings – Seunghyun _bailed_ on him.

_Really sorry!_ Jiyong saw when the message came in. _Something happened with the class action suit we’re working on. Jiyoo making me come in. Go stay with Dad. See you tomorrow, promise!_

Jiyong glared at his sparkling Piaget; it was eleven p.m. Who the hell went in to the office at this hour?! Normal, overworked guys, he reminded himself – Seunghyun was a junior partner, he didn’t work to a clock, and he _cared_ about the people it was his job to help. Jiyong couldn’t get mad at him for that.

_K, Tabi. Gd luck! Txt me when u get home. Miss u. x_

But he _could_ get pathetic. Jiyong had wanted to see him; he was so tired. He wanted to let his guard down and be pampered. He could do the first at the family home, of course; but the second demanded someone around to spoil him. And there were things he wanted to tell Seunghyun – things he was remembering.

Jiyong sighed and directed the car out of the city towards his father’s house. On the way he gave himself a lecture. By the time he was in Seunghyun’s old bed – it was bigger, so it only made sense – he felt slightly better. But he did hope this wasn’t going to become a habit.

 

* * *

 

 

“Tell me,” said Seunghyun, not realising he was holding his breath until he began to feel dizzy. “…Where is he?” Gil pushed an A4 envelope across the table. Seunghyun wanted to open it _now_ , but there were too many people, in the surrounding booths and pausing by the window to check out the donut menu by his head. “Summary, please,” Seunghyun requested tightly. He reminded himself to breathe again.

“He’s in Seoul,” stated the PI, looking unsurprised by Seunghyun’s reaction. “Wasn’t too hard to find. He’s been living with a woman in Bongcheon, but they broke up around a month ago and he’s wedged in there like a limpet by himself.”

“Sounds about his kind of neighbourhood.” Not that it was as bad as when he was a kid, but Seunghyun wouldn’t like his girlfriend – or his baby brother, come to that – wandering around there at night. It would suit a lowlife like Minjun perfectly.

“Pretty nice place he’s got, though,” Gil went on. “Detached, two floors, decent furniture.” He _had_ been doing his homework.

“Interesting.”

“It is,” said the other man, starting on his second Dunkin Donut, “given that he doesn’t have a job.” Seunghyun raised an eyebrow. “Not a regular one, anyway, certainly not one that would keep him in that kind of lifestyle. Does some casual labour a couple of days a week. Construction, covering bar shifts, deliveries.”

“What kind of deliveries?” asked Seunghyun.

“A far cry from Dominos, I can tell you that.” The PI swallowed. “It’s all in the file.”

“So…he kicked his girlfriend out, he doesn’t work, but he’s doing well? Big house, having a fine old time?” said Seunghyun bitterly.

“Looks like it,” agreed Gil. Seunghyun was unable to stop his expression darkening. It could be no secret to the private detective that he wasn’t hunting down Minjun because he was after a friendly get-together; still, the less Gil knew about his motives at this stage, the better. Gil was professional; he hadn’t asked. “Only…”

“What?”

“He’s got financial problems. As you might expect. He owes months’ worth of mortgage payments on that place – I found letters from the bank in his trash, they’re in the file – and rent on a storage unit further out of town. And a few times he’s ignored guys that come and knock on his door. Could be from a collection agency or even loan sharks.” Gil shrugged. “I gotta say, he doesn’t seem overly worried, so he might have another income source. Either that or he’s planning to skip town.”

“Find out, please,” Seunghyun told him quickly. If Minjun didn’t confess straightaway, and Seunghyun couldn’t imagine he would… _this_ was how he would get him. The PI nodded.

“I’ll have to hire a numbers guy if you want details.”

“Yes.”

“Any more questions?” Gil wiped sugar from around his mouth and folded the napkin.

“Not right now.” Seunghyun was clutching the envelope, as if he was afraid Gil would take it back. The older man observed him phlegmatically. “But later…I’m going to need your advice.”

“Clients never take my advice,” Gil informed him with a mournful sigh. Seunghyun just smiled at him tightly and headed for the café bathroom; he knew the PI would take the hint and be gone once he had come out.

He locked himself in a stall, then ripped open the envelope – he couldn’t wait any longer! Seunghyun had held himself in check throughout their conversation, but now he caught himself almost snarling as he tore at the paper. He told himself to hold on to control as he read the address, but momentarily lost it again as the next page revealed telephoto shots of Minjun in combat pants and a Hawaiian shirt, older but unmistakably him – the fucking weasel. Seunghyun leaned against the door and breathed. Here it was, right in front of him: the first step. He knew that if he took it he might not be able to stop. That scared him; but it was inevitable.

His guilt buried beneath the cold flame of a hunger he had never felt before, Seunghyun took out his phone and messaged Jiyong. He would make it up to him later; after all, this was for both of them.

 

* * *

 

 

In all his years as a smartass student, competent lawyer and reluctant model, Seunghyun had never pictured himself as a creeper. But here he was, lurking in a narrow alley at one a.m. waiting for his target to appear. It would probably have been wiser, Seunghyun reflected as he silently shifted to relieve the cramp in his leg, to take Gil’s information home and make a proper plan. However…

Seunghyun pricked up his ears as he heard footsteps approaching, but it was only a couple of teenagers. It occurred to him that Minjun might already be asleep in his darkened house, in which case he was just wasting time he could have spent with Jiyong. But it was Friday night; the report said Minjun came home late at weekends. And logical or not, Seunghyun didn’t want to give up, didn’t _want_ to go home and be sensible – he wanted a confrontation like he hadn’t since he and his brother had been bitter teenage enemies.

He felt his phone go once or twice, but didn’t dare check it for fear that the glow would give him away to anyone passing by; he couldn’t look anything but dodgy, waiting here. It was probably Jiyong – as far as Haewon knew, Seunghyun was with his brother right now – but he’d be okay so long as he went back to their dad’s. Seunghyun felt bad, but –

“Fucking crap.”

Seunghyun heard the exclamation before he saw him, but then _there he was_ , no doubt about it, emerging from nowhere to jog across the road and bump into the front gate of the house Seunghyun was watching. Minjun sighed, shoved the gate open and went up the steps, fumbling with his keys. Seunghyun felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up, but it wasn’t fear – it was something else. He slipped out of the alleyway and moved quietly up the steps after the smaller man, who was still working to unlock the door.

“Hey,” said Seunghyun softly, his pulse going so fast it was a blur. Minjun froze, but he didn’t jump like Seunghyun would’ve if he’d heard a voice come out of nowhere on a dark night right on his doorstep. He had the door open now, and kept it that way as he slowly turned to face him.

“Come back Monday,” said Minjun, sounding wary but not especially freaked out. “By then it’ll be-” He stopped and Seunghyun saw him peer closer. The taller man took another step up to let the porch light illuminate his face. “Well fuck me!” Minjun exclaimed, looking purely astonished. Seunghyun had wondered if the man would recognise him; it had been more than a decade since the Army. Apparently he had changed less than Minjun. “Never thought I’d see _you_ again, kid,” Minjun told him.

“Ditto.” Seunghyun couldn’t raise a smile, but managed to sound relatively calm.

“Well. You gonna come in, or what?” Now it was Seunghyun’s turn to be astonished. What the hell did the bastard think he was here for? A reunion? Seunghyun looked right at him, and couldn’t spot an ounce of shame, even though Minjun knew, he _must_ remember, that Seunghyun was Jiyong’s brother. Minjun walked into the house and kicked off his shoes. Seunghyun frowned and followed.

“A bit late to play nice, isn’t it?” he said, entering the kitchen on Minjun’s heels. It was a fine house, and Seunghyun couldn’t believe the guy wasn’t up to his eyeballs in something fishy. Back when they’d been in the same troop Minjun had always given them to understand his family was poor as dirt. Seunghyun hadn’t cared, of course, but now, when he looked at this place… He wrinkled his nose as they walked in; it might be expensive, but it certainly wasn’t _clean_.

“Late?” Minjun gestured to a chair, then shrugged when Seunghyun shook his head. “Not even two o’clock!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So, how you been?” asked the older man, leaning back against the sink. The way he was looking at him…Seunghyun couldn’t quite make it out, so he just stood there and watched. “Want a beer?” Seunghyun shook his head again. “Well, what you doing here?”

“…You remember my little brother?” demanded Seunghyun quietly, cutting to the chase. Either Minjun was playing a game or he was incredibly fucking dumb. But no-one was _that_ stupid. He saw something flash across Minjun’s gaze, and with that he was sure.

“Yeah,” said the jerk after a minute. “He was in our unit for a bit, right?”

“Remember what happened to him?”

“…He left early,” recalled Minjun. “Convalesced out.”

“That’s right,” said Seunghyun. He was surprised that he could sound this non-confrontational, when all the while something was building and growing inside him; he wasn’t at all confident he could hold it in. “Jiyong got hurt,” he added, and watched Minjun’s skinny face grow still as he continued. “Raped and beaten so bad he couldn’t remember a damn thing about it.”

“…Yeah.” Minjun gave him a sympathetic look. “It was never official, y’know, but…word got around. He doing better now? See him on telly sometimes; seems like he’s over it. Strong kid.”

Seunghyun had met plenty of unprincipled people in his career. But never, ever had there been one whose nonchalance was as galling as this prick’s. He felt his lips curl back, exposing his teeth in something that wasn’t a smile, and was unable to do anything about it.

“I think you did more than hear about it,” he said. Minjun’s eyes narrowed. “I think you saw it. I think you were _there_.”

“Come on.” Minjun relaxed; it looked deliberate. “No-one knows who it was. There wasn’t even an investigation, far as I recall. And you said yourself the boy drew a blank.”

“That was then. You must’ve thought you were safe, right? But things happen.”

“Things?” inquired Minjun, too casually. Seunghyun took a step forward without noticing, and observed the smaller man twitch.

“My brother remembered something,” said Seunghyun flatly. “And now I _know_ you were there.” There was a silence. Seunghyun rather enjoyed the sight of the man trying to shut his face down. He was quite good at it, almost good enough.

“Why not tell the cops, then, if you’re so sure?” demanded Minjun. He looked frightened at last, but was clearly planning to bluster it out.

“You know why.”

“You don’t have any proof,” the older man said, his expression clearing as quickly as it had clouded. “Right? This is all just a fucking _fairy_ story.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Seunghyun told him, needled by the way he had stressed that word. “I don’t need the police or the Army to take you all down.” Minjun _laughed_. So Seunghyun hit him.

He hadn’t meant to, it was pure reflex, and so the bastard didn’t see it coming. Seunghyun was almost surprised when he staggered against the sink and lost his balance.

“You asshole!” hissed Minjun. “What are you, crazy? You’re a lawyer, aren’t you?! Want the cops down on your head?” Seunghyun was puzzled to see him clutch at the sink like he was finding it difficult to stand; he hadn’t hit him _that_ hard. Then he realised Minjun was drunk. That made sense: he had a lot to forget.

“Just getting your attention,” said Seunghyun, shaking out his hand and wincing. “No, stay down, you fucker, it’ll work out better for you.” Minjun slumped back against the side. “Just admit it,” Seunghyun advised him. “I _know_ you were there. I know Lee was the ringleader.”

“Wherever…would you get that idea? Your brother say so? He say my name? No, right?”

“Actually,” said Seunghyun, “it doesn’t really matter if you admit it or not. Lee’s gonna get what’s coming to him, oh, is he ever!” Minjun looked disinterested; obviously he only cared about his own horrible hide. “What I want to know,” Seunghyun continued, “is who else was involved. You know what the lab said? At least four men.” It still made him feel sick. “ _Four_. So. _Who were the other two_?”

“How should I know?” Minjun exclaimed, as if Seunghyun was being ridiculous. “Why don’t you ask Sejun, if you think this is all about him?!” Seunghyun smiled thinly at him.

“Because you’re an easier target. Since you got kicked out of the Army. Having some money problems, are you?” Minjun stared at him. “I could help you make those go away,” Seunghyun offered. “Or I can make your life a fucking nightmare.”

“I told you, I _don’t know_ ,” the drunk son of a bitch insisted from where he had slid down the sink. “Look, I feel sorry for you, and the kid, I do. But how can I help you if I wasn’t there?”

“Don’t talk about my brother!” spat Seunghyun, before getting a handle on himself. He saw Minjun flinch. Seunghyun thought he must look absolutely nuts right now if it was enough to make an ex-career soldier jump.

“Now listen,” said Minjun reasonably. “This all has nothing to do with me. But I always liked you; so I’ll tell you what I can.” Seunghyun glared at him; how would Minjun know anything if he hadn’t been right there joining in? “I wasn’t involved,” Minjun insisted. “But…wasn’t like rumours didn’t fly. The kid was in the hospital, and then he disappeared from the unit…People wanted to know why.”

“…And what did you hear?” asked Seunghyun, who didn’t believe one word of it.

“I heard about some guys.”

“ _Who_? Hyeonwoo?” demanded Seunghyun. “It was _always_ the three of you.” Minjun scoffed at him.

“Specs? Didn’t you hear? Got shot in the ear a few years ago by some idiot kid during training. Can’t keep his balance now, had to move down to Busan and work Supplies.”

“Then who?” Seunghyun leaned forward, the anger like a cold river in his bloodstream. “Tell me, and I won’t spend _too_ long making you regret it.” Minjun looked at him narrowly, trying to read him. Then he shrugged.

“What can I tell you? Just what I heard. Couple of regulars, couple of service recruits. One guy they say hated your brother on principle; class-based grudge, charmed life and all that. Political shit. One of the others apparently just has a serious thing for pretty boys and bondage.”

Seunghyun breathed out carefully through his nose, absolutely disgusted at the imagery that conjured up. He _knew_ Minjun was in on it with Lee – they did everything together – and he knew the former soldier could tell him exactly who else deserved to be punished. Seunghyun wanted to kick Minjun in the face until he stopped breathing. But he needed to know, and so he’d have to do this the hard way.

“Don’t bullshit me,” he advised quietly. “However long it takes, I’m going to make you tell me. Do you believe that?” The other man snorted; Seunghyun could see that although he was scared of Seunghyun’s size and his completely justified anger, Minjun still wasn’t taking his threat seriously.

“I ain’t bullshitting,” Minjun insisted. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, now can I?”

“All right,” said Seunghyun, and straightened up, leaving Minjun on the tiles. He didn’t try to touch him again, though his instincts were screaming at him for it. “I’m going. We’ll see what you say when I come back next.”

Minjun sniggered at him as he left. Seunghyun ignored him; it was the last time the man would ever laugh. He would see to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this would be the book where Seunghyun abandons all pretense of being the sensible one (but he does have a lot on his mind, and at least it makes him proactive!) ^^;  
> Stay tuned for more of that... :)


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun makes some progress, and his extra-curricular activities start to have an effect on Jiyong.

“Why’re you being so nice today?” demanded Jiyong, as Seunghyun opened the boot of his car to reveal an old PS3 and a stack of games they had played their first summer together. “It’s creepy.” Seunghyun hauled it all out and dumped it in Jiyong’s arms, then retrieved four bottles of wine and a bag of fancy import snacks from the car.

“‘Cos I am nice.” He shut the boot with his elbow and led the way to the lift. “Your driver will come pick you up whenever, right? Or you can stay over, Haewon won’t mind.”

“Won’t we wake her up?” asked Jiyong, his arms starting to ache. “It’s late already.”

“She won’t care. I got her favourite Shiraz to bribe her with.”

“…But seriously,” Jiyong continued, as Seunghyun unlocked his door. “You bail on me twice this week, and now you wanna spoil me?”

“Shouldn’t I?” said Seunghyun with one of those charming smiles he knew Jiyong couldn’t resist.

“Guilty conscience?”

“Nope. Work, what can you do? Just…want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Dinner, dancing, drinking, and now a sleepover?” Jiyong ventured. “Just turning up when you say you will would suffice, Tabi.” He knew Seunghyun was overcompensating for ditching him – there had been a few days like that lately. He enjoyed the pampering, but he’d rather know he could see his brother when he needed to.

“Let’s just chill,” suggested Seunghyun, stacking three of the bottles in the fridge. “We can stay up all night, like we used to.” Jiyong smiled; he was only human, dammit. Seunghyun set one fond hand on his back. Jiyong thought vaguely that there was something new about it, but the touch was gone before he could analyse it. “Whatever you feel like,” Seunghyun told him, grabbing glasses. “I’m here to make you happy.”

That was exactly what Jiyong wanted to hear.

 

Haewon got up and joined them long enough to drink two glasses of wine and catch up on Jiyong’s news and glamorous social antics. Seunghyun was pleased to see his brother chatting to her without any hint of resentment, even though she was cutting into their alone time. It was a relief to see Jiyong looking well: his old jealousy forgotten, or at least well hidden, and the shock of his recent trauma apparently receding. It made Seunghyun feel better too; he felt that it gave him license to continue his investigative efforts: Jiyong and Haewon could clearly cope without him occasionally.

“How’s work, really?” asked Jiyong, when Haewon had gone back to bed. They’d set up the console and played a few games, neither of them doing very well, and now Jiyong was lolling on the other end of the sofa, a glass of red between his fingers and his limber little body curled around a cushion. Seunghyun felt the distinct urge to shuffle across and rest his head in his lap; he was used to that, though, and easily dismissed it.

“Bit crazy,” admitted Seunghyun, making a face. “Sorry it keeps screwing us up, honestly.”

“You wanna talk about it?” Jiyong offered. “You used to like walking me through your cases.”

“That was a long time ago,” said Seunghyun, who still did – he just didn’t have a decent fiction prepared yet to explain what was taking up his free time. “Anyway, this one’s pretty damn depressing; I’m not gonna make you listen to a crappy story like that.”

“‘Kay.” Jiyong held out his glass and Seunghyun poured him more wine before throwing a box of crackers at him; the smaller man was always verging on too skinny. “But,” Jiyong went on, suddenly looking at him earnestly, “could you listen to mine?”

“You don’t even have to ask.” Seunghyun was alert now, Jiyong’s black gaze and the tone of his voice shifting out of his earlier complacent mood. It always worried Seunghyun a bit, how good an actor his brother was in real life. “Tell me what’s up.”

“…I keep having that flashback,” Jiyong confessed, and Seunghyun inhaled sharply. “I don’t mean, like, thinking about it; I mean _feeling_ it.” He curled up tighter and tucked his hands into his sleeves until only the tips of his tattooed fingers were visible. “It’s when I’m on my own, usually, and it’s starting to fuck with my awake time too. Guess I need distracting.” Seunghyun looked at him, fighting to conceal both pity and extreme anger – Jiyong didn’t need to see either of those. “…What d’you think, Tabi?” asked Jiyong, somewhat shyly.

Seunghyun reached out and extracted one of Jiyong’s hands, curling those pretty fingers in his own. It was as far as he dared go. He gave them a consoling squeeze.

“Is it…the same?” he inquired, trying to speak gently. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I’m _sure_ I know that voice,” said Jiyong after a minute. His face darkened. “The one that called me a bitch.” Seunghyun wanted to know, too; if it belonged to Lee or Minjun it was no help to him, though they’d fucking regret saying it; but if it was someone else and Jiyong could place it…

“Can you describe it?”

“…No.” Jiyong’s fingers tightened on his. “But after that…I think I heard someone reply.”

“Oh?” said Seunghyun, a bit too eagerly. The younger man blushed an angry red.

“He said – I sound _cute_ when I moan,” he managed, practically spitting each word, then winced as Seunghyun clutched at his hand.

“They can’t hurt you now,” Seunghyun reassured him, although they could, and _were_. He hated that Jiyong had to remember these things, almost wished he had never had the flashback at all. Only…now they could _pay_. Seunghyun sat holding Jiyong’s hand, letting his brother talk, and although he was listening he was aware that half his mind was somewhere else: doubling down on his resolve to be the punishment they deserved.

It was time to hurry Gil’s accounting man up: time to put the screws on Minjun.

 

* * *

 

 

“How can I make it so Ji Minjun loses that house?” Seunghyun asked Gil. The PI thought for a minute, gazing at his client mildly. He still hadn’t asked what Seunghyun had against the man, but once this went beyond Minjun it was bound to come out. Was it betraying Jiyong’s trust to tell Gil? Seunghyun needed him, after all.

“Legally?” Gil inquired.

“Let’s start with that,” Seunghyun agreed, pushing the thought aside. He had already decided he would bend the law if it came to it, so long as it didn’t hurt anyone. He’d prefer not to get his own hands dirty, though – he wasn’t an idiot. And he didn’t want to lie to his family more than he had to.

Gil nodded and began to tap rapidly at his phone, sending several messages and later walking some distance away from the park bench to take a call. Seunghyun drank his black coffee tepid and stared at the treeline. It was getting chilly.

“It should be doable,” Gil told him after about forty minutes, coming back with a steamed bun from one of the nearby vendors. Seunghyun’s lunch break was technically up, but the only person who could scold him was Jiyoo, so he nodded for the PI to go on. “You’ll need to sign off on more hours for my accountant and maybe another guy, and there might be some cash payments involved if I have to _encourage_ some people. But probably not,” he added, as Seunghyun frowned. “We can most likely swing this one on contacts and goodwill.”

“How?”

Gil laid it out for him: his accountant actually had a day job in the bank that owned Minjun’s mortgage. He knew a few people in that department, so he’d try and figure out how it was that Minjun still had his fancy home when he had months of payment arrears; and, more pertinently, what it would take for the son of a bitch to lose that privilege. If it worked, the bank ought to foreclose on him.

“What if he’s got a stash?” said Seunghyun, picking holes. Gil didn’t seem to mind. “You said he must have schemes or something on the side; if he pays up, he gets to keep the house.”

“Right. We’re still digging around that. We do know that the guy’s an addict.”

“Gambling, right?” said Seunghyun. Gil nodded.

“He could borrow money from wherever it is he plays – he’d have to be a damned idiot, they charge extortionate interest; but they’d probably lend it him. We’ve seen him with loan sharks, too. Plus I think he might be involved in some kind of benefit fraud, and maybe money laundering…seems like he doesn’t do anything big. But I reckon he does a _lot_.”

“Enough to hold on to that place?”

“I’ve got some contacts who’re known round that district,” Gil said vaguely. “I’ll have them drop a hint that Ji’s under police investigation – for embezzlement, whatever – and that he’ll most likely be charged. The underground lenders, they’ll cut ties and back off ‘til they see if that’s true or not; they won’t have anything to do with him until it turns out it isn’t. They stay out of the cops’ hair.”

“How long will it take?” Seunghyun wanted Minjun low enough that he’d confess out of desperation, and he wanted it _soon_ ; seeing Jiyong so edgy and upset had really lit a fire under him.

“Depends on my guy at the bank. Couple of weeks?”

“I want updates,” requested Seunghyun. “Every day.”

“Get a burner phone,” suggested Gil tolerantly, swallowing the last of his snack. He must have seen dozens of twitchy clients like Seunghyun.

“All right. Just…please, as fast as you can.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Back in a minute!” yelled Seunghyun over the noise of the bar, pointing at his phone. Jiyong nodded from his place at the centre of attention – he was surrounded by friends, Youngbae on one side, some of their female seniors opposite and Seungri coming back holding a tray of drinks, with an outer circle of acquaintances flanking them. It still dug at Jiyong to watch Seunghyun walk away.

Peering between the glittering bodies of the clientele he saw Seunghyun open the door to the terrace and step out, gorgeous profile silhouetted against the lights as he clamped the phone between his ear and his shoulder. Jiyong was surprised when Seunghyun extracted a packet of cigarettes from his leather jacket and lit up; the older man had never been a smoker, he only had the urge occasionally when work was getting on top of him. In the past Jiyong had been able to do something about that – he smoked himself when he was on tour, and it did help with the stress, so he understood. Seunghyun had never needed to when they were together. He really hoped nothing was wrong.

“C’mon, _hyung_!” exclaimed Seungri, bouncing down in Seunghyun’s seat and offering Jiyong a range of suspicious-looking drinks. “Try this one, or this one!”

The smaller man sighed and put his junior in a headlock; Seungri always needed taking down a peg on principle. He glanced across the bar again: Seunghyun was still talking, pushing one hand through his hair in what Jiyong recognised as frustration. He couldn’t see his expression. Jiyong sighed more deeply and relaxed his hold on Seungri, sliding an arm around his shoulders companionably. Seungri beamed and offered him more drinks.

Jiyong found himself missing his brother. That was natural and all when he was making overseas appearances or hauling ass round the country for TV shows or concerts; but lately he’d been feeling a kind of isolation even when he was in Seoul. Even when he was _with_ Seunghyun. Even tonight.

It wasn’t Jiyong’s imagination that he’d been seeing less of Seunghyun the past month or two. It wasn’t like the older man deliberately ignored his messages or refused to meet him. But it seemed like the invitation always came from Jiyong these days, or even from Haewon – Seunghyun himself was acting kind of distracted. He must still be in the middle of that tricky case. It hurt Jiyong more than he liked to admit, the knowledge that Seunghyun wasn’t thinking about him. Sure, it was what they’d both agreed ought to happen when Seunghyun started dating; but that was before Jiyong had needed him like he did now.

The younger man, much to his dismay, had been unable to stop himself fantasising about having Seunghyun again. The way they had been together, the sensations of his brother’s lips and hands, the comforting vibration of his deep voice as Jiyong nuzzled his throat. He couldn’t prevent those memories rising any more than he could repress his recurring flashback – he was sure they were connected. Jiyong remembered how good, how important sex had been for him in the months after leaving the Army. How Seunghyun had made him feel like he belonged to himself again, and had helped him forget.

Jiyong wanted that back, and every day he didn’t see Seunghyun in the flesh only made it easier to imagine him, exactly the way Jiyong wished him to be. The fantasies left him hard and giddy, and whenever he _did_ see Seunghyun he was sure his face would give him away – even tonight, in the midst of their friends, he had caught himself blushing. But Seunghyun didn’t notice anything – and that hurt too.

 

* * *

 

 

It was finally done! Gil’s man had come through, and Minjun was out on his ass. And the best thing about it, thought Seunghyun, gloating in what he suspected was an undignified way, was that the fucker hadn’t known it was coming until it happened. Gil had sent him candid shots of Minjun being escorted firmly from that big house with a couple of untidily-packed bags; his rat face had looked magnificently bewildered. Seunghyun bet Minjun had cottoned on by now to who had got him thrown out and cut off his sources of emergency income. He hoped so.

Seunghyun didn’t waste any time; as soon as Gil had the man’s new address he took the afternoon off work and headed over there. Minjun had managed to find a tiny rental in one of the Itaewon areas that hadn’t been gentrified. It was above a delicious-smelling and probably health-hazardous chimaek. Seunghyun skirted the restaurant’s overflowing garbage bags and ascended the outside staircase to the rooms above.

He pressed the bell, and heard nothing; odds were it was broken, so he rapped on the door instead. He waited; still nothing. Minjun could have gone out, he supposed – that would be just his luck – but he was prepared to hang around until he got what he wanted. He knocked again, and thought he caught a movement through the dirty frosted window by his head.

“I know you’re there,” Seunghyun called through the door. In a sick way he was starting to enjoy himself. “I know you know what I did. If you don’t let me in I’ll go away and do something worse!”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Then he heard the click of a lock. And another. Then the snap of a chain, and a second later Seunghyun had to jump back as the door slammed open.

“…You dirty son of a bitch,” said Minjun flatly. He hadn’t shaved. “Get the fuck in here; I’m guessin’ you want me to beat the shit out of you?”

“Probably best not to try,” Seunghyun told him with a curl of his upper lip. He was almost sure Minjun was smarter than that – he must know Seunghyun wouldn’t have come here if he wasn’t feeling secure. Still, he entered the narrow apartment warily, keeping an eye on Minjun’s hands.

There wasn’t a lot of room to hide an offensive weapon; it was no more than a bedsit, with a tiny area for a stove and sink next to the main room. Seunghyun noticed that Minjun hadn’t unpacked. That must mean he wasn’t planning on being here long. Well, that would depend on how he behaved today.

“What the hell you doing here?” snapped Minjun, dropping into the only chair. Seunghyun leaned against the wall. Unlike the last time, today Minjun was stone cold sober. Perhaps, thought Seunghyun vindictively, he had to watch what he spent now.

“You know perfectly well.” Seunghyun folded his arms in a parody of nonchalance. “I told you last time what I wanted, and what would happen if you didn’t fess up.”

“How did you do it?” The smaller man looked furious, mystified, and unnerved at the same time. Seunghyun shrugged.

“That was just a taster, you know. You want your life back to normal? Easy: tell me the names.”

“Names?”

“Of who else hurt Jiyong.” The bastard knew damn well what names. “Or you could _not_ tell me. And my people will do something worse.” Actually, he didn’t know exactly what Gil could or would do – but Seunghyun was very persuasive.

Minjun stared at him for a long time, presumably weighing his options. Seunghyun looked back, forcing himself to meet the older man’s eyes; it disgusted him, seeing the lack of anything familiar in the face of someone he’d thought he knew. He wondered if Minjun would keep pleading ignorance. The longer Minjun made him wait, the less in control Seunghyun felt; he jammed his fists in his pockets and clenched them.

“…It wasn’t his first time,” said Minjun callously, opening his mouth at last. “The kid. Just so you know. Some guy trained him really well; probably a pervy old producer, right?”

“Shut up!” Seunghyun snarled at him, suddenly at the very edge of his composure. “Don’t…you… _dare_ talk about him that way.”

“Then what do you want me to talk about?” said Minjun rudely.

“I want to know who. Names and ranks.” Seunghyun felt the familiar painful confusion that hit him whenever he thought about it, and continued almost without meaning to. “…And I want to know _why_.” Minjun shrugged, looking markedly more cheerful now he’d stopped bullshitting – now he could use his words to hurt Seunghyun back.

“Well, for one thing he was _there_. He was cute and vulnerable – he didn’t have any regular buddies, not really, just pathetic fanboys.”

“You fucking animals,” said Seunghyun in a low voice, distracted from the fact that Minjun was still holding out on him. “Is that all it takes?!” The other man smiled sourly.

“Sure, why not? But that _wasn’t_ all.” Seunghyun frowned. “This is your fault too,” Minjun said. Seunghyun felt himself go pale.

“What?”

“Yeah,” answered the older man. “You think Sejun chose that boy at random?”

“…Why is this all Lee’s deal?” asked Seunghyun carefully, while inside him a wolf was baying for the other soldier’s blood. Lee: he was the one. He was the worst.

“Because the kid’s your brother.” Minjun waited, then laughed pityingly up at him. “Christ, you really are blind. Didn’t you _know_?” he continued. “Sejun was _nuts_ for that pretty face of yours.” Seunghyun felt his mouth drop open.

“ _What_?”

“Yeah.” Minjun smirked. “From the day he met you he wanted you on your knees. It was _obvious_ ,” he told Seunghyun, who was gaping at him. “He was hardly gonna confess to you, though. I’m sure he thought about having you anyway. But you were always pretty popular with Kim and the other guys, so he had to let it go.”

“And my brother-” began Seunghyun, his hands clenched into fists.

“Was revenge,” said Minjun simply. “Sejun wanted you a long time.” For a minute Seunghyun just stood there, stricken, as all the old guilt flooded back with a hundred times the force and hit him like a tsunami. He felt sick. The other man huffed through his nose, knowing that he’d scored a hit.

“…Well,” said Seunghyun, with gritted teeth, at last shaking off his horror and focusing again on Minjun, “what about you? Huh? Whatever that fucker was thinking, didn’t mean you had to go along with it!!”

“See, guys like you don’t understand what it’s like for regular people,” the other man said immediately, curling his lip. “You with your silver spoon, and that pretty kid with his money and his fancy queer manners and TV presenters kissing his ass all day.”

“What’s your point?” said Seunghyun icily. He couldn’t stand to have Jiyong spoken of like that.

“Just that, when you’re a no-count guy like me and you’re watching girls screaming on the TV for that rich brat…Well, it helps to know you’ve had your dick in him.”

Seunghyun surged forward and punched him, as hard as he possibly could. Then he made himself stop: there were better ways. More painful ways.

“…Just tell me who the others were,” he ordered, panting. “And you’ll never see me again. If you don’t…if you say one more fucking word that isn’t their names…I will _end_ you. And now you _know_ I can.”

Minjun stared up at him, bleeding from his bottom lip. Seunghyun waited; how much did the man value his sad excuse for a life? Then Minjun spat in his direction.

And told him the names.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was unreasonably pleased when Seunghyun invited him over for lunch the next weekend. His pleasure was yet another sign that something was off in their relationship – having Seunghyun want to see him used to be, and still should be, completely routine – but he couldn’t help his spirits rising. He’d had a few bad nights that week, and though he’d spoken to Seunghyun on the phone he hadn’t got to see him at all. The warmth he felt upon stepping into the sunny apartment and having Seunghyun just _touch_ him was quite out of proportion.

“You should come over more often,” Haewon told him. “It’s the only time Seunghyun puts any effort into his cooking. Have you lost weight?” She gave him a visual once-over. “Not that you don’t look amazing,” she added quickly. “But if you want to keep working so hard you need someone to feed you up! You can come and eat here any time, right, honey?” She nudged Seunghyun, who blinked, then nodded.

“I’d love to,” said Jiyong honestly. He was so comfortable here, even watching her being affectionate with his brother; even with Seunghyun in one of his moods.

They were in the middle of eating. Seunghyun had exerted himself enough to make tempura and chosen the wine to go with it, and Jiyong had brought sides from Mingles in Gangnam – he still couldn’t cook. He and Haewon had discussed the news, her latest grad student assistant, and were now debating what colour his hair should go next, while Seunghyun ate quietly and stared at the abstract drawing by Park Someone-or-other on the wall opposite the table. Jiyong couldn’t see what he found so fascinating about it – it was almost disturbingly featureless, just grey wavy pencil lines in rows. But apparently it provided some kind of stimulus for his brother, because a few minutes later Seunghyun finally opened his mouth.

“…If people do something awful,” said Seunghyun thoughtfully, “and then do something really really useful to get themselves out of trouble…do they deserve to be forgiven?”

Jiyong and Haewon stopped eating and glanced at each other, then at him. Jiyong suddenly felt uncomfortable, and didn’t know why. Seunghyun had always been big on rhetorical questions, and even as a student had liked to pose various moral problems for Jiyong and then argue with him about them. He’d said it helped him think critically. But this sounded…different.

“Is this about a case?” asked Haewon, puzzled.

“Hm?” Seunghyun looked up from his plate and waved his chopsticks vaguely in the air. “Just thinking aloud,” he said. “But what do you reckon?”

“Yes,” answered Haewon, as Jiyong had known she would because she couldn’t possibly be any sweeter.

“No,” he said at the same time. They both looked at him questioningly. “Well,” continued Jiyong, clarifying his thoughts as he went along, “maybe yes. If they did something good ‘cos they were really trying to help; or if they were sorry.” He frowned; Seunghyun was watching him avidly. “But if they’re only trying to save their own ass…then no.”

After what had happened to him Jiyong was not big on forgiveness, although he was trying his best. He knew bearing a grudge wouldn’t help him heal, but his flashback had opened up that old wound again.

“…That’s what I think, too,” Seunghyun told him, and went on calmly eating his lunch. Jiyong and Haewon exchanged another look, then shrugged. Their man was eccentric, what could you do?

But it was only a short while later that Jiyong began to think there was something seriously wrong with his brother.

 

* * *

 

 

Two months’ time and Jiyong was lonelier and more miserable than he had ever been in his life; more than when he had been in the Army, more than when Seunghyun had moved in with Haewon. Those were petty emotions compared to the constant low-grade fear he now lived with every day. He kept remembering things. Sometimes they didn’t stick, were there in a flash and gone. But sometimes they did: a hand doing something painful between his thighs, an obscene compliment, a slap that knocked his head sideways. It was as if that smell, that herby smell, had been the trigger for the slow opening of a door he had wanted to stay locked.

Seunghyun would have called it a Proustian moment. But these days Seunghyun was inexplicably absent, and Jiyong couldn’t tell him this stuff by online message or phone. He wanted to talk to Seunghyun about the things he was remembering – not because he thought his brother would know how to stop it, but because he would listen, and care. He didn’t understand why Seunghyun had gone cold on him. Even when he had started getting serious with Haewon he had managed to spare time for Jiyong. He had enthusiastically sought Jiyong’s company, even when it was dangerous for them to be alone with each other.

Now Seunghyun always said he was working. Jiyong knew his brother loved his job – it was one of the many reasons he was proud of him, his beautiful human rights crusader. But Jiyong knew an excuse when he heard one; he’d spent the first twelve years of his life listening to his father lie about the existence of his other family, and he was an expert now. Seunghyun wasn’t working. He knew this because he’d called Seunghyun’s firm at the weekend once and by coincidence got hold of his brother’s senior partner, who had been most surprised when he’d asked if Seunghyun was there.

No. Seunghyun was spending time somewhere else, somewhere more fulfilling than the office or his nervous little brother’s company. Jiyong concluded that there was only one person Seunghyun valued anywhere near as high as those things. Seunghyun had abandoned him to be with Haewon.

Jiyong tried his absolute damnedest to be pleased by this. It was what he had wanted his brother to do ever since he had made the decision that they end their taboo affair and give their father what he wanted: a son with a model happy family. Jiyong had ordered Seunghyun to stop making advances on him and commit to Haewon. And now Seunghyun was doing it.

Try as he might, the best Jiyong could manage was resignation. He was deeply hurt and actively scared by Seunghyun’s neglect. But maybe it was for the best; he couldn’t claim Seunghyun’s strength for himself forever, and besides…what if his own distress was affecting his big brother’s stability? Jiyong hadn’t forgotten what Seunghyun had done to himself the last time the younger man got hurt. So he scraped his courage together, went on working harder than ever, and pushed his horrible emotions into his creative efforts. He might as well have something to show for all this misery.

 

* * *

 

 

And then Jiyong’s doorbell rang. It was late, around three a.m. He had been sleeping lightly on the sofa – his bed felt too huge and too empty, and he hadn’t been tempted to fill it with anyone else. He got up, his muscles tense and his overdeveloped sense of wariness on full alert. When he went to look at the lobby video monitor he saw Seunghyun lifting his finger to press the button again. Thrown, Jiyong buzzed him in, then hovered in the entrance nervously while his brother took the long ride up to his penthouse.

Seunghyun knocked on the door and Jiyong unlocked it quickly. What had happened? He opened his mouth as Seunghyun strode in without even taking off his shoes and came right at him. Before he could get a word out the older man grabbed him and dragged him into a claustrophobic embrace.

“Tabi?” managed Jiyong, his voice muffled against Seunghyun’s jacket, “what’s wrong?!” It had been so many days since he had seen his brother in the flesh; something must have happened, something bad. With his heart in his mouth Jiyong prayed that their father hadn’t had another stroke.

“Baby,” Seunghyun muttered fervently into his hair, tightening his hold even further. “Oh, my Jiyong…” Jiyong felt Seunghyun rub his cheek against the top of his head. He was very frightened now; surely Seunghyun must be able to feel him shaking.

“What’s happened, Tabi?” Jiyong tried again. At last Seunghyun seemed to hear him. He slid his hands up to Jiyong’s face and looked down at him, his beautiful eyes wide and damp.

“Nothing, baby,” said Seunghyun. He sounded breathless. He gazed at Jiyong, thumb brushing his cheek. “I just had to see you… To tell you I love you, to make sure you _know_.”

“…You scared the fucking hell out of me!” Jiyong told him accusingly. He was terribly confused: he had wanted Seunghyun with him so badly, was fading and pining and acting like a complete lovesick stereotype without him. But now Seunghyun was here, and his presence was making Jiyong uneasy. He was sure Seunghyun wasn’t okay; the last time Jiyong had seen him like this was after he had been assaulted, when Seunghyun had rushed out to the base to be with him.

Seunghyun was still staring into his face as if reassuring himself of something. Whatever it was he appeared to find it, because he sighed and all the electric energy went out of him. He leaned his forehead against Jiyong’s and took an unsteady breath. Now it was Jiyong’s turn to stroke his brother’s high cheekbone; Seunghyun was a bastard and a half for turning up like this out of nowhere, but there was something wrong with him. So Jiyong, being the bigger man, forgave him. He wrapped his arms around Seunghyun’s neck and pulled him back into a hug, hand moving soothingly across his shoulder-blades.

“Sorry,” said Seunghyun, after a long while. His deep voice was a caress, but Jiyong didn’t trust its calm right now. “…You are okay, aren’t you?”

Jiyong had wanted to tell his brother all about his flashbacks, his uneasy sleep and fear and jealousy. But how could he, with Seunghyun being so strange? Suddenly he remembered what his shrink had said years ago: that perhaps his brother wasn’t _able_ to be his support, even if he wanted to. What if this was some…late-reaction trauma? What if Jiyong’s reaction to his flashbacks had triggered Seunghyun as well? The thought horrified him, and with an effort he pushed the urge to speak down.

“Yeah,” he murmured, rubbing Seunghyun’s back. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

It wasn’t the last time Seunghyun would appear after weeks of sporadic communication to embrace Jiyong as if he was the only thing saving his older brother from drowning. But Jiyong didn’t know that yet; and it certainly wouldn’t have made him feel any better.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun knew he was neglecting Jiyong. He knew Jiyong was vulnerable and afraid of what his subconscious might let slip after the smell of meatballs had triggered his violent memory of Lee. He felt awful at disappearing for nights on end when he should be by his brother’s side, supporting him.

He tried to message him as often as possible, to make sure Jiyong knew he was thinking of him; so Jiyong would still feel cared for. But emails and SNS were limited in what he could say. The two of them had been extremely careful from the beginning not to send anything incriminating to each other over media that could be hacked. Their expressions of affection had always been face to face or silent. Nothing he could write on Line would convey to Jiyong how much Seunghyun was missing him. He would just have to have faith in Jiyong’s strength; and his baby brother had proved time and again that he was far braver and stronger than he looked.

Seunghyun’s nights were taken up with ensuring Minjun lost everything. That meant informing various tax offices, loan companies, and even the shady money lenders of the man’s identity and whereabouts, and categorically laying out the tangle of his scams and debts with the proper authorities. He had to hire a decent forensic accountant and try to follow what the guy was saying; Minjun’s money history was extensive and criminal in a number of damning ways.

 Finally, through several confidential channels, Gil was able to get the police involved, and from that point the bastard not only faced bankruptcy but a prison term – for benefit fraud and embezzling from a legit company he used to work for. It gave Seunghyun a great deal of pleasure – pure schadenfreude, he knew – to see the net drawing tighter around Minjun, hurting him as it went. Minjun had lost even his crappy rental apartment, and was moving from hostel to hostel as the friends he could crash with grew fewer in number. Seunghyun knew that the next step would see him on the streets.

He ought to be above this kind of sadism, he supposed; but it felt _righteous_. The only thing better was knowing that Minjun _knew_ who was responsible for the collapse of his life. Seunghyun had decided, once he’d discovered Jiyong’s views on forgiveness chimed with his own, not to let Minjun get away with it. Just this once he had no compunction about breaking his word.

The rest of the time, when he wasn’t doing his legitimate job, he was talking to Gil and looking for more people to unearth, preparing to gather any evidence that would give him a hold over the other three bastards who had damaged his beloved brother so deeply. Lee would keep for a while – Seunghyun wanted to save him for last – but now he had the names of the remaining two, he would see to it that they paid as dearly as Minjun.

Seunghyun worried that not only was this becoming an obsession – it was – but that he was beginning to enjoy it. He didn’t like to think of himself as that kind of person, but there was the proof: every hidden string he looped around Minjun made him feel _good_.

He tried to spend as much time as possible with normal people, with Haewon and Jiyong. Sometimes it helped: their love for him filled Seunghyun with warmth. But lately their affection and trust was beginning to make him feel guilty. Haewon’s sweet face made Seunghyun feel small when he thought of the vengeful urges and legally ambiguous activities he was hiding from her. But Jiyong was the worst.

Since Seunghyun had become sure that Minjun was going to get what he deserved, he had been suffering from a growing urge to tell Jiyong what he had done, and who he had done it _to_. Seunghyun felt irrationally eager for Jiyong’s praise and affirmation; the closest analogy he could think of was a devoted hunting dog who brought his owner his kill: ‘See? Look what I did just for you!’

But it was a cruel and stupid urge. Jiyong did not want to think about his assault, beyond an abstract idea of making sure no-one else got hurt the same way. He certainly didn’t want to know that his rapists were men he had thought were his brother’s friends. Revealing who the criminals were could only bring Jiyong pain. And beyond that, Seunghyun told himself forcefully, it was positively immoral to tell him. Revealing to the younger man how he planned to punish them would make Jiyong complicit in Seunghyun’s revenge, not to mention an accessory if something went wrong. Seunghyun would never, ever do that to him.

So he kept it to himself, and if that meant he had to spend less time alone with Jiyong for fear he would blurt it out…well, that was for both their sakes.

 

* * *

 

 

This certainly seemed to be the way forward. Jiyong wasn’t happy, Seunghyun was well aware of that; but he was busy and active at work, was all over social media with Youngbae and his other friends, and that was somewhat reassuring. Haewon had her own projects underway, and was content to assume that Seunghyun’s long hours away from home were spent in his office or with his brother. Seunghyun was keeping an eye on Minjun’s situation – on remand and awaiting trial for embezzlement, no money, no home: miserable – and was setting his next strategy in place. Things were going well.

Until one night Gil phoned him on his disposable cell.

“I just had Won call me. You know, the public defender? Ji Minjun hanged himself in his hostel this evening.”

“What?” said Seunghyun quietly. He groped for a chair and sat down.

“Suicide,” the PI clarified. “The coroner checked because…well, you know. But he says yes, it was.”

“I _don’t_ know.” Seunghyun found he was gripping the phone so hard the edges were biting into his palm. “Why wouldn’t it be…suicide? More to the point, why _would_ it? Why would he do that? Minjun didn’t care about anything but his own skin!”

“Because he was bankrupt and ruined and facing heavy jail time?” suggested Gil. He sounded bothered, but not frantic like Seunghyun was; Seunghyun assumed he had seen it all before.

“But why now?” Seunghyun insisted. He swallowed giddily; he had no idea how to feel. “He was just as screwed last week!” That had been a crowning moment: seeing Minjun actually _arrested_. The PI coughed non-judgmentally.

“He was granted bail this morning. I called you, but I figured you’d be in meetings.” Seunghyun was silent. “You know some of the local loan sharks were informed of Ji’s situation,” Gil continued patiently. Seunghyun noticed he refrained from saying ‘you made damn sure of that’. “They’re called sharks for a reason. Ji was vulnerable; they smelled blood, and they were closing in.”

“Yes?”

“Well. This is speculation, you understand.” Seunghyun made a vague affirmatory noise. “When the lenders found out he genuinely didn’t have a grain of rice to his name, and he could hardly score any more cash with a parole officer attached to his shirttails…I think they kicked the whole problem upstairs. To the Jopok.”

“Gangsters,” said Seunghyun heavily.

“ _Organised_ crime,” the PI corrected him. “Well, sort of organised. And if those guys can’t get their money…hell, they get their money’s worth. I’m guessing this was all going on while Ji was on remand. When he was released he must have heard about it and…”

“And?”

“Those guys,” said the PI, “do not mess about. If I was already in shit with the police and the Jopok were coming after me? I might take the easy way out too.”

“Christ,” breathed Seunghyun. If there was a time to blaspheme, this seemed like it. He hadn’t even considered that Minjun could be in for worse than a long jail sentence and maybe a few beatings. He hadn’t thought about gangs. It struck him then how much of an amateur he still was. Gil might have _warned_ him how this could end, he thought; so he’d know what to prepare for.

Just the thought made him feel worse: while part of him was frozen with horror at his own culpability – Seunghyun could not deny that this was _his fault_ – another part was callously listing the new things he would have to learn before he took on his next target; and re-evaluating how far he was prepared to step outside the law. The answer was a shock. Oh, Seunghyun had been right all these years: he was going to Hell. Only this time being Jiyong’s lover had nothing to do with it.

He thanked Gil shortly and ended the call. His hands were shaking, and he couldn’t tell why. He found it impossible, right then, to sort out his disgust at himself from a sense of fiery euphoria. Seunghyun had not wanted Minjun dead – at least, he had thought not. But there was no doubt that hearing the news had given him at least one glorious moment of triumph. He wanted to feel it again!

Seunghyun couldn’t bear it, to think of himself as that kind of person. He jumped to his feet and paced around his office, trying to calm down, and to help he gave himself the task of remembering what he was doing this _for_. The sight of Jiyong’s face in his mind’s eye was the answer.

Jiyong. All of a sudden Seunghyun was desperate to see him: to remind himself of the reason he had to get revenge, but also to reassure himself that his brother was safe and still loved him. He had always been the one to calm Seunghyun, to make him feel okay about himself. Tonight Seunghyun didn’t care that he was meant to be acting cautiously, that he had to avoid involving his brother in any of this. Jiyong was the light of his life, and he had to see him.

So he had gone to the younger man’s apartment and scared the living daylights out of him. Seunghyun had wanted to cry at the beauty of Jiyong’s face: alive and well in spite of Minjun and the others. He wanted his brother to stay like that, unstained by what Seunghyun was doing for him. But at the same time he was struck again by the urge to confess everything; to hide nothing from Jiyong so he could be with him again, with no secrets between them.

Jiyong, the perfect creature, had soothed him out of it. Still, when Seunghyun woke up the next morning in his own bed and began the mental task of facing Minjun’s death, he couldn’t shake the idea that, if he told him, Jiyong might forgive him.

But that was surely hysteria talking. Confess to Jiyong? He couldn’t believe he was considering it. Seunghyun needed to pause; and think very carefully about what to do next.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that escalated quickly, didn't it!  
> How will this melodramatic incarnation of Seunghyun evolve? And how's poor Jiyong going to deal with it? More to come soon :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun gets himself in even deeper, and Jiyong tries to find a distraction.

“Honey,” said Haewon softly, sitting down beside him. Seunghyun started as she set one hand on his arm. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He summoned up a smile for her, but Haewon had an intuitive sense for when people were unhappy. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

“You’ve been miles away. Not just now, I mean for days. What’s wrong? Is it the case? You’re working so late recently.” Seunghyun looked up at her hesitantly. He couldn’t tell her about Minjun, of course, about any of it. But maybe he could get an idea of how someone who loved him would react…

“Would you still care for me,” he said slowly, “if I did something terrible?” Haewon gazed back at him, a fine line appearing between her eyebrows. After a moment it disappeared.

“I don’t believe you would,” she replied, and brushed the hair back from his forehead when he sighed. He should have known she’d say that. “I don’t think you _could_. I know you; you don’t have it in you to do anything really wrong.”

“Not _wrong_ ,” Seunghyun clarified. “Just…terrible.”

But he could see she didn’t understand. Would Jiyong?

No, Seunghyun decided at that moment; he couldn’t risk it. He would keep his mouth shut and deal with the next man on his list.

 

* * *

 

 

“Here’s the name,” Seunghyun told Gil without preamble, sliding onto the bar stool next to him and handing him a post-it that read ‘Han Ilsung’ in printed characters. It had been weeks now since Minjun’s death; Seunghyun had needed that long to sort himself out and psych himself up to continue. He was still experiencing sudden pangs of both horror and satisfaction when he least expected it, and it was making it difficult to trust himself. But now he thought he was ready.

“Is that all?” asked the PI. Gil had readily accepted Seunghyun’s request for another commission – hadn’t mentioned how the last job had ended – but now Seunghyun could sense the older man evaluating him. He shrugged.

“I never met this one,” he said. “He left the unit three years ago, soon as his service time was up. He’d be around my age, I think. I don’t know what he looks like.” Minjun hadn’t been great at giving Seunghyun a visual idea of who he was looking for; he didn’t have the descriptive touch, and Seunghyun couldn’t exactly ask him for more details now.

“Profession?” inquired Gil, unperturbed. “Hometown?” Seunghyun shook his head.

“But I heard the guy is, like, heavily into militant Socialism – hates the rich, hates the upper-class. So, I dunno…maybe activist groups?” That was why he’d joined in, Minjun had hinted: because Jiyong represented the focus of this asshole’s ideological vendetta. It hadn’t been _personal_. Seunghyun found that motive almost more chilling than Lee’s.

“You planning to do the same thing to this one?” Gil sounded cautious.

“It depends,” said Seunghyun. “Just…find out where he is, everything you can about him. Then we can figure out something that won’t be so…messy. Okay?”

“You’re the boss.”

Seunghyun nodded darkly; Gil was absolving himself of responsibility, and quite sensibly, too. If Seunghyun miscalculated this time, there would only be one person to blame.

 

* * *

 

 

It took a long time to find Han, much longer than Minjun, and considerably more money. Seunghyun spent the intervening two months flip-flopping between forced good humour and periods of intense frustration. He tried his best to treat his family normally, especially Jiyong, who knew him best; Seunghyun was well aware that his little brother was getting suspicious.

It was easier to be good to Jiyong when Haewon was around. It felt safer, somehow, having her there as a buffer between the two of them, a safety net against the urge to get on his knees to Jiyong and confess everything. The few times he saw his brother alone – when he simply couldn’t help it – Seunghyun found himself in danger of losing his cool entirely. Jiyong was unhappy, Jiyong was vulnerable, and he wanted the older man beside him – Seunghyun had been his support for a decade, and it was impossible to explain why things had to change now.

“ _I_ don’t know!” Seunghyun heard himself snap one evening. “What am I, a relationship coach?”

Jiyong was recounting a problem between himself and one of his co-writers, some disagreement they’d been having that was threatening to escalate. Jiyong was close with this guy, had been for years, and right now Seunghyun was bitter and jealous of the fact: that this person got to be as tight with his brother as he wanted, and didn’t recognise his own damn good fortune. Seunghyun missed that. It made him angry.

He saw Jiyong’s pretty face turn hurt, perplexed, and pissed in the space of a couple of seconds. For fuck’s sake. _This_ was why he couldn’t be around him lately.

“You don’t have to jump down my throat,” said Jiyong in a low voice, glancing through to the next room where the rest of their family was watching TV.

“Sorry.”

“I only wanted your advice. Don’t get much chance to ask these days.” Jiyong looked like he was torn between wanting to take Seunghyun’s hand and wanting to hit him. But his normally expressive brother did neither, just sat there looking at him with his lips pressed tight together. Seunghyun needed to kiss him – either that or tell him the truth.

“Maybe you _should_ go see your therapist,” he said instead. It would be safer, God knew. He sensed Jiyong retreat from him, dismayed. “She can help you better than I can.”

“You know that’s not true.” Jiyong gave him a searching stare. “…At least, it wasn’t before.”

“Just for a while,” suggested Seunghyun, folding his arms. “I _am_ here for you, Jiyong, you know that. I swear. I’ll listen to you anytime.” Jiyong huffed through his nose. “Only, I’m…dealing with some stuff right now. So probably best to ask someone else for actual advice.”

“You could tell _me_ things, too,” Jiyong said stiffly. “I know I’m not a legal expert or whatever, so I won’t be much use if it’s work. But even so…” Seunghyun felt himself flush as Jiyong paused for another calculating glance. “I don’t see why you’re so scared to talk to me.”

“I’m not scared,” retorted Seunghyun, too sharply. Jiyong opened his mouth, then shut it again and shrugged.

“Whatever. As long as you’re okay, Tabi.”

Seunghyun wanted to snap at him again, to tell him to quit being so self-effacing and sweet, to stop making his big brother feel like shit. But before he could Jiyong vacated his seat and stalked off to watch _Running Man_ with their father, leaving Seunghyun to stew in his own impatient frustration.

 

* * *

 

 

“…I’m sorry!” was the first thing out of Seunghyun’s dumb mouth when Jiyong opened the door to him. Jiyong pursed his lips; he’d _known_ that was what this would be: another late-night guilt trip. He turned on his heel and walked back into the kitchen, where he’d been making herbal tea in an effort to force some decent sleep on himself.

Before he’d gone more than a few paces he felt Seunghyun’s arms wrap around him, and the warmth of his brother’s tall frame against his back.

“Honestly,” said Seunghyun in his ear. “I am.”

“I believe you, Tabi.” Jiyong had been imagining just such a scenario for days: Seunghyun holding him, apologising to him and being there to comfort him, the familiar double sensation of security and risk. Now Jiyong shrugged him off and stepped away. He _did_ believe Seunghyun was sorry for acting like a prick – but he also knew he’d be back at it in no time. That was the pattern now.

“I hurt you,” murmured Seunghyun, his deep voice full of contrition as he followed the younger man into the kitchen. “I didn’t mean to, I _want_ you to confide in me!”

“Uh-huh.” Jiyong knew that if he asked Seunghyun would embrace him again with all the genuine adoration he probably gave Haewon when he was with her. Seunghyun would listen to him, or at least he’d _look_ like he was – Jiyong had no idea where his brother’s mind was anymore. “You want some tea?” he said coolly.

“I want you to forgive me,” Seunghyun said, with passion. He looked tired and jumpy and thoroughly beautiful.

“Well _I’d_ like a bit more notice that you’re about to have one of your monthly emotional outbursts,” Jiyong shot back, feeling snide. “Better yet!” he added when Seunghyun moved towards him, “I’d prefer you just pick an attitude and stick with it.” He banged the tea caddy down warningly, and the bigger man stopped.

“I’ve been…frustrated,” Seunghyun admitted. “There was something really important we needed for this lawsuit, and not finding it has been driving me crazy.” Jiyong looked at him incredulously; did Seunghyun really think he’d buy that? He was an awful liar. “But this evening we finally got it,” Seunghyun said.

“I’m sorry you have work stress.” Jiyong grabbed the boiling kettle. “You wanna know why _I’m_ stressed, Tabi?” He could see Seunghyun eyeing it warily. “Because almost every day I have the same damn dream,” he told the older man. “And all the same things happen to me over and over in the dark. Only every time now I remember something new: they call me something worse or do something more painful. It’s getting to be a fucking feature-length presentation some nights.” His grip on the kettle was making his hand ache.

Seunghyun looked ill, and before Jiyong could warn him off he strode forward and grabbed him, pulling him close. Jiyong hurriedly put the kettle down before he spilled hot water all over his brother’s socks – not that it wasn’t tempting. _This_ was what he needed every time he had those flashbacks, but it didn’t do him much good now. He wasn’t even angry anymore, he discovered, as Seunghyun’s hand moved soothingly over his back. He was just tired.

“Oh…go home,” he said, pushing Seunghyun away with some difficulty. “It’s late.” Seunghyun stared at him, large eyes full of distress, goddamn emotional blackmail, it was. “I’ll come over there next time; it’s better when it’s both of you.” That was true, he realised with a depressed start: Seunghyun with Haewon was a more reliable man than Seunghyun on his own. He’d have to get used to that.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Seunghyun said, the stubborn jerk.

“Out!”

“You’ll come see me at the weekend?” asked Seunghyun plaintively.

“I’ll come see both of you,” Jiyong assured him, shooing him towards the door. Seunghyun put his shoes on reluctantly, and before Jiyong could blink his brother leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Love you,” declared Seunghyun.

“Yeah.”

Jiyong pushed him out, then shut the door and locked it before returning to his tea. His heart was racing, a habitual reaction to Seunghyun’s illicit caresses; but he felt more frazzled than ever. On balance, Jiyong decided, it was maybe better to be ignored.

 

* * *

 

 

The reason it had taken so long to locate Han Ilsung, Gil informed Seunghyun, was that the guy wasn’t in Seoul.

“He was raised here,” the PI explained. “Went to Yonsei, majored in Political Science.” That figured, thought Seunghyun. “But about a year after he finished his military service he left Seoul too; he had a decent job copy-editing for _The Hankyoreh_ , but he up and split without even telling them he was quitting.”

“Ugh. I read that paper.” It was about the only news source all the left-leaning lawyers agreed you could trust; Seunghyun had been a subscriber since grad school. It was unsettling to think that he and that scumbag could hold any views in common.

“He helped out at a couple of volunteer groups, too,” Gil continued, making it worse. “Getting working-class kids into higher education, running demonstrations and stuff. None of those guys knew he was leaving, either.”

“So where did he go?” That was the point, thought Seunghyun, lighting a cigarette to curb his impatience.

“Daejeon,” said Gil.

“Oh!” That was a way south; Seunghyun couldn’t think of anything especially interesting about the city, and wondered what could have tempted this apparent firebrand away from his activist life in the capital.

“Yeah, and he didn’t leave a paper trail, or much of an electronic one. That’s why it took so long to pin him down; I had to go there myself and do it the old-fashioned way.”

“Are you saying he’s…what, _in hiding_?” demanded Seunghyun.

“I dunno about hiding,” Gil mused. “It’s more like he’s gone off the grid, a radical lifestyle change. Lives in a share house with a bunch of other hard-Left protesters, they’re all doing much the same thing. Works in a textile factory for cash in hand, big into unionizing the employees.”

“Why?” Seunghyun asked. “He has a good degree, decent CV.”

“Solidarity, I guess, if he’s the rabid anti-capitalist you think. You’re probably right, the guys he’s living with are a bit…vigilante. He has a phone but it’s not in his name; he doesn’t even go by his real name down there.”

“What does he call himself, then?”

“Red Sung.”

“Oh, original,” said Seunghyun, snorting. He was suddenly feeling pretty conservative. “Commie,” he muttered under his breath, and felt ashamed of himself; Han actually sounded like the type of person Seunghyun might otherwise respect, in a detached kind of way from the comfort of his luxurious life. The difference, he reminded himself sharply, was that _this_ activist was also a rapist.

“Want his address?” asked Gil.

“Of course.” The PI passed him a scribbled-on napkin and took another spoonful of soup. Seunghyun wasn’t familiar with Daejeon at all, but he knew it was too far to go hurtling down there without planning exactly what he was going to do. This wouldn’t be half as convenient as hounding Minjun. “What else do we know about him?” he inquired. “Any difficulties, secrets, anything?” The man had assaulted Jiyong; surely he’d done other things Seunghyun could use as leverage.

“Mm.” Gil made an ambiguous face. “He’s hard to get a handle on. He’s careful and he’s kind of jumpy. Like those conspiracy nuts who go live in the woods.”

“Why did he leave Seoul?”

“Not sure. But it was sudden, so there must have been some pressing reason.”

“If he’s not the peaceful kind of protester,” said Seunghyun, thinking aloud, “then maybe he got involved in something criminal; did something to piss off someone powerful. Or even hurt someone.” That would be handy.

“Well,” said Gil, shrugging, “we found him. Anything else you need me to do, or are you gonna take over?”

Seunghyun sat and pondered this while Gil finished his meal. He really didn’t know much about Han Ilsung; he’d never even laid eyes on him, and apart from radical politics he had no idea what made him tick. Or what his buttons were. All they were certain of was that he had committed a crime in the Army, and had left Seoul in a big hurry.

“…I wanna feel him out,” said Seunghyun at last. “I want to know how he’s going to react.” What _did_ he want to do to the bastard? wondered Seunghyun. That was the big question. If he wanted him in prison, what would it take to make that happen? And if not…what else?

“How?”

“Send him a note,” Seunghyun suggested slowly. “Or even a couple: one to his house, one to work. We could even put one in his bag, if you’ve got people who can do that. Printed, anonymous, you know, the works. Like a poison pen letter.”

“Saying what?” Gil sounded cautious. Seunghyun bet plenty of his clients had weird-ass ideas like this.

“Say: _We know what you did_.” Simple, vague, and freaky. Gil considered this for a while.

“You know this is technically harassment,” he commented. “Not that I’m saying I can’t do it. I just want to let you know where you stand. It isn’t as if this guy’s a known felon like Ji Minjun.”

“I know that.” It was treading the edge of legality, but at this point Seunghyun didn’t care. “It’s not high-risk, is it?”

“Not really. But…if we’re going to go this way,” said Gil in a neutral voice after ordering a coffee, “I think it would be helpful for me to know.”

“Know what?”

“What he did.” The PI was looking at him. “What _they_ did. Why you’re doing what you’re doing. Confidential, of course, but if you want me to properly evaluate the risks...” Seunghyun leaned his chin in his hand; well, it wasn’t like he hadn’t been debating telling Gil anyway. And they’d been working together for months now. Seunghyun thought he could trust him.

So he told him.

“I see,” said Gil, after, with no indication of what he was thinking. “All right, then.”

“You have to keep this to yourself,” Seunghyun told him solemnly. “Not for me. For my brother. That’s why I can’t go through the Army, can’t involve the courts; this _mustn’t_ go public.”

“I get that. Guess the idol life’s not as sweet as it looks.”

“It would ruin him,” agreed Seunghyun, feeling as bitter as ever about the fact. “I can’t have that. You understand, right?”

“Hey, I’ve got a younger sister,” Gil said. “I take your point.”

“So…we’re still on for the anonymous threats?”

“Business as usual,” announced Gil quietly, and toasted Seunghyun with his coffee mug. Seunghyun breathed a sigh of relief; Han Ilsung might be a tough nut to crack. He _couldn’t_ do it on his own.

 

* * *

 

 

“So…” said Gil over the phone, a week later. “You know you wanted to see how the guy would react?”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun quickly slipped out the front door, shutting it behind him so there was no possibility of his girlfriend hearing.

“Well, he’s gone.”

“What was that?”

“ _Gone_ ,” came his PI’s voice, sounding mystified.

“What do you mean, gone?!” Seunghyun jogged down the hall to the emergency stairwell. “You just planted the notes, right?”

“Yeah, exactly like you said. I had someone watching the house and the factory.”

“So which one did he find?” Seunghyun shivered; it was cold in here, and the concrete made his deep voice reverberate around the stairs unless he whispered.

“The one we left in his work locker. He didn’t come home, anyway, so it must’ve been. My guy says he walked out at the end of his shift with the others – a couple of his housemates work there too. Looked pretty spooked, apparently, so far as you can tell under the beard.” Seunghyun wondered how anyone _could_ tell; he’d seen pictures of Han, from the Army and after, and these days half his face was hidden by a scruffy growth of facial hair.

“Then what happened?”

“He got on the bus, and that was the last time anybody saw him.” Seunghyun heard Gil stifle a yawn. “We’ve been looking two days, I’m still there now. He’s disappeared.”

“You talk to his hippie housemates?” demanded Seunghyun, biting his thumbnail because Haewon would smell it if he smoked.

“Cagey,” said Gil. “All said they didn’t know anyone like that. Then again, they’re kinda paranoid. Probably thought we were with the Government or something. But I don’t think he went back to the house in any case.”

“Jesus.” Seunghyun growled to himself and it rumbled around the stairs, freaking out the elementary-school kid from three apartments down as she opened the door to come through. He heard her shut it again with a squeak. “All right, what do you think?” he asked.

“I think he’s skipped town,” said Gil immediately. “That note scared him; he must’ve done _something_ to make him think it applied to him – something bad enough that he didn’t want anyone catching up to him.”

“You think he knows it’s about the rape?” Yeah, Seunghyun just bet the fucker had a guilty conscience.

“That’s a very interesting question,” came the older man’s voice. “I wonder.”

“Go find him,” requested Seunghyun; he couldn’t let it lie now. “I don’t care if you’re tired or if you’ve got other jobs on; take whatever extra money and people you need and get on his tail. I want to know what’s got him so spooked!”

“And when we find him?” inquired the PI. Seunghyun smiled nastily at his shoes.

“Spook him some more.”

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun’s weirdness was beginning to affect Jiyong’s public figure as well as his internal life. He had to _do_ something about it. Jiyong had been trying anything he could think of to avoid being alone in his apartment at night; that was when he missed the old Seunghyun most acutely. That was when the bad thoughts came.

Of course, G-Dragon had only to crook his finger to surround himself with friends and admirers who were delighted to party with him ‘til the sun came up. Jiyong tried that for a while; he knew his fans enjoyed his celebrity lifestyle, liked to see him looking busy and happy, so he uploaded a lot of pictures and videos of himself having fun. But it was exhausting to be the entertainment for large groups of people night after night. Sometimes Jiyong just needed someone to be with, and it was this that was screwing with his image.

There was Youngbae, of course, who was probably the closest thing to a _normal_ brother Jiyong had. He loved the man dearly. But Youngbae was busy with his own burgeoning solo career, and Jiyong didn’t feel right about leaning on him. Besides, it was much easier to display vulnerability and get sympathy from a woman than from another guy, even one as sweet and loyal as his bandmate. So Jiyong found himself spending time with a couple of the female artists on his label. One of them was his senior, and had always spoiled him when he was a kid; out of all the others, he felt closest to her. It was good to hang out with her at night and bask in the bright light of her self-assurance. But of course people got the wrong idea.

Jiyong was scolded by Hoang and YG himself after candid pics of the two of them emerged a few times in the tabloids and rumours started to fly.

“But she has a boyfriend!” said Jiyong indignantly. “Obviously I’m not dating her!”

“That makes it worse,” Hoang told him, as if he was an idiot rookie. “It’s even juicier if she’s cheating with you.”

“She isn’t!” insisted Jiyong. “We’re just _friends_. I needed someone to talk to, and she was there.” YG and his manager exchanged looks.

“You’d better write a song together or something,” suggested Hoang. “It’s a good enough excuse if you’re collaborating.”

“Fine.”

“And cut down on the night outings. _Especially_ don’t take her to Jeju again. You want to talk to her, you can do it here.”

“Sure.” Jiyong toned it down after that; he didn’t want to get her in trouble for the sake of his insecurities.

The next girl was a couple of years his junior, and she had approached him. Her band’s studio was just down the corridor from his, and they talked sometimes. She invited him out with a group of her friends and Jiyong was glad to go. He had dinner with her in the cafeteria a few times. Then one evening she casually mentioned that he looked worried lately. Jiyong shook his head and she didn’t probe deeper; but she acted even nicer after that.

Jiyong was careful to keep their meetings within the YG building, where they were in no danger from reporters or fans with cameras. It would have been enough: she was getting him out of the house and keeping the worst thoughts out of his head. Until she kissed him.

He hadn’t seen it coming; he froze, dismayed, until she pulled back, looking almost as thrown as he felt. He didn’t know what would have happened after that. It didn’t matter anyway: her manager had seen, walking in at exactly the wrong moment. Jiyong was immediately called on the carpet by the president.

“ _Not_ in this company!” said YG, sounding genuinely angry for the first time since Jiyong had been a teenager. “You know the rules; it gets far too messy when things go wrong, and that one’s enough of a handful as it is. Are you listening?”

“…I didn’t mean to,” replied Jiyong unhappily, taking the fall without hesitation. He didn’t want to get her in trouble; he didn’t know why she’d done it, but YG was far more likely to forgive _him_. “It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you lately!” The older man shook his head. “You’re doing the best work you’ve ever done, everything’s going your way. So why the acting out?”

“I’ve just…been down,” said Jiyong. “I can’t explain.” His boss’s expression softened minutely.

“Ah. Well, try not to let in show in private.”

“Don’t you mean public?” asked Jiyong, puzzled.

“You can do what you like in public,” YG told him. “Look as woeful as you please, it’ll sell even more records.” He sighed in disbelief. “You really don’t know what it does to women when you act like that, do you?”

“…No?”

“And here I always thought it was a pick-up technique. You never noticed how the chicks start circling when you go all droopy and stick a helpless look on that pretty face?”

“Seriously?” Jiyong exclaimed. It could not have been further from his intention. “I mean…no!”

“Must be pure instinct then.” The older man shrugged, still irritated. “Just lay off it, anyway,” he said. “You’ve had plenty enough scandals in the last few years.”

“…Yes, sir.”

“That’s my good boy.”

So that was another avenue of relief cut off, and on top of everything else it made Jiyong paranoid: who else was his face giving the come-on to without his permission?! He started working harder to regulate his expressions, to the point where even Seunghyun noticed.

“You ill or something?” he asked, not unkindly but absently, as if he was thinking about something else. And with their friends there Jiyong could do nothing but shake his head and curl up further inside himself.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun was woken by the buzz of his second phone in the early hours of the morning; he slept short and light nowadays, and was up and out of the room while Haewon was still asleep.

_Found him!_ read the unusually excitable message from Gil. _If you want to set eyes on, go to address below_. Seunghyun scrolled down eagerly, and inhaled through his teeth. After weeks of drawing investigatory blanks Han was here, in Seoul! He couldn’t miss the chance to find out what the hell was making the man run – or, failing that, to further scare the crap out of him.

Seunghyun took a cab towards the address Gil had given him near Dongdaemun. He leaned back against the seat and tried to figure out what he would say. If Han was on the lam because he’d done something else criminal in the time since he’d left the Army, Seunghyun wanted to know about it; if he could get the bastard put away, surely it would be enough to satisfy his desire for reprisal. If it _wasn’t_ that – if Han was running because of what he’d done to Jiyong – Seunghyun wasn’t sure what would happen when he caught him, or how well he would be able to control himself if he heard the sick fuck admit it to his face.

His phone buzzed again.

“I’m almost there!” he told Gil, breathless now.

“Don’t bother!” came his PI’s aggravated voice. “He’s gone!”

“What the…” Seunghyun signalled for the cab driver to pull over, ignoring the man’s grumbling. “What did you do?!”

“Nothing.” Gil was on a train, Seunghyun could hear it. “I think he caught sight of his tail. My guy’s pretty good, but…”

“Well?”

“But if Han did see him…well, he does kinda look like he could kill someone. Not his fault! It’s just his face, and…”

“You’re rambling,” said Seunghyun coldly. Fucking dammit, he did not want to go through the waiting game again.

“Look, it doesn’t matter,” Gil assured him. “We saw him go, we’re following him now! You want in on this, you’d better get a move on.”

“You can see him?” Seunghyun perked back up.

“No.” Gil said something to whoever was with him. “But I think I know where he’s going. That’s why you need to hurry.”

“Where?”

“Incheon,” Gil announced. “By AREX.” _Fuck_. Seunghyun banged on the back of the driver’s seat.

“The airport!”

 

The taxi dumped Seunghyun out at Departures, and he ran for the terminal like he was in the climax of a crappy romantic comedy. As soon as he clapped eyes on Gil he quit running; he could see there was no point.

“…He’s gone, then,” said Seunghyun, panting. Gil nodded in annoyance.

“I gotta hand it to the jerk, he’s got champion danger instincts.”

“So does a rat.” Seunghyun ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Anyone see…where he went?” The cowardly prick could be hiding anywhere around the airport area; it would be the perfect place to lose yourself, even without stepping one foot off the ground. He saw Gil brace himself.

“Guangzhou. Pretty sure.” Seunghyun groaned.

“Goddammit, really? How do you know?” Gil jerked his head at one of the travellers sitting wearily beside a nearby vending machine.

“We had to get a later train, so we arrived after Han. But my guy there is fast; he saw him checking in at the South China Airlines counter. Guangzhou is the first flight out on that carrier.” He glanced at his watch and pulled a sour face. “And assuming they’re on time, there he goes.”

“You couldn’t _stop_ him?” Seunghyun felt the anger pooling in his gut.

“In the middle of an international concourse?” said the PI. “I’m not James Bond. Besides, he went straight through to the security check, and obviously neither of us brought our passports.” Seunghyun knew that technically Gil was making sense, but the frustration had him in a choke-hold.

“Why the hell did he go this far?” he asked. “What did he _do_ to make him leave the country over a note and one glimpse of your gangster type over there?”

“…Unless he comes back,” said Gil, placing a careful hand on his shoulder, “I don’t reckon we’ll ever know.”

“Bloody fucking hell,” said Seunghyun eloquently.

“I can’t track the guy in China. This is a small-scale operation I’m running.” Gil gave him a bracing pat. “We can keep tabs on him if he tries to come back, though. I have a contact in Passport Control.”

“You’re saying I’ve lost and I’d better get used to it.” Seunghyun breathed out through his nose; he wanted to punch something.

“You’ve scared the man out of his home and out of his country,” Gil reminded him. “Don’t you think exile’s enough punishment to be going on with?”

“…It’ll have to do,” agreed Seunghyun, keeping a tight rein on his voice to stop himself giving his PI a very unfair drubbing. “But…what did he think we knew? What did he _do_?” Gil shrugged philosophically. “God, isn’t it going to drive you nuts?!”

“I’ll get over it,” the older man assured him. “That’s half my job.” He began to guide his unhappy client out of Departures and towards the car rental area. “Come on, we’ll give you a lift back to town.”

Seunghyun rested his head against the frame of the open window and let the brisk morning air hit him in the face as Gil drove them yawning back to Seoul. It was struggling to be a sunny day. He supposed he should think of an excuse to give Haewon; but she wasn’t like his brother, she would believe whatever he said. It made him feel worse.

“Buck up,” Gil suggested, popping Haribo bears like they were amphetamines to keep himself awake. “It’s not like this is the end.” He glanced over at Seunghyun. “You have more targets for me, right?”

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun, narrowing his eyes against the wind. Two down – sort of – and two to go. He tried to console himself with the fact as they entered the city. But still he couldn’t shake the illogical but inescapable feeling that he had failed his brother. And that Jiyong would know it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now I feel like a jerk for being this mean to Jiyong ^^;  
> And one could argue that Seunghyun is being as big of a jerk; but it's so much fun to write him right now!
> 
> More of his shenanigans to come soon :)


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun's moral crusade steps up a gear, and Jiyong's struggle to stay strong causes more friction between the boys.

Jiyong sat in the president’s office and stared.

“Another world tour?”

“You haven’t done a solo since your comeback,” YG reminded him. “And this would be the perfect time, with Youngbae finally in military service.”

“…That’s right,” said Jiyong, and sank back in his boss’s best guest chair. His first reaction was dismay: this was the _worst_ time – he was lonely, depressed, out of his element even in the safety of his own home. And he was so _tired_. He thought of it with dread: the endless round of long-haul flights, strange, impersonal hotel rooms, the pressure and stress of planning and rehearsing for a major tour. Jiyong had often thought as his star rose higher that fame was exhausting, even dehumanising, and in moments of frantic activity had wished to be rid of it – but he had never felt it like he did now.

“You could do with a change of scene,” cajoled YG, who always managed to make his own priorities sound like Jiyong’s best interests – and the irritating thing was that he usually ended up being right. “Your new material’s great, get some studio time in and we can release a mini-album or something to promote with it.” Jiyong, being a good and dutiful protégé, nodded absently and thought again.

Maybe his boss did have a point. All those things Jiyong had just listed, all the apprehensions he had; couldn’t he see them as a welcome distraction instead? Perhaps it _would_ do him some good to get away for a while.

“I could really make this a big one,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “Couldn’t I? Three months, even longer…” He’d play in any city that would support him, he thought, a little frantically. If he was away for long enough, perhaps he’d start to forget again; perhaps Seunghyun would figure out a way to behave normally, and Jiyong could have his beloved sibling back.

“If you pull your weight,” agreed YG fondly. “And speaking of, look at those collarbones.” Jiyong rubbed his exposed clavicle absently; he always lost weight when he was stressed. “I’ll take you out to lunch,” YG offered. “No, come round for dinner tonight, it’ll be just the family.” He sure did know how to make you feel rewarded; once you’d agreed to what he wanted.

Jiyong nodded wanly. He wondered if anyone would miss him.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun was missing his brother. Since forcing Han out of the country he had allowed himself to take a break – perhaps spending some real time with the people who mattered would distract him from the lack of closure that was still niggling away at him.

But Jiyong was having none of it; evidently Seunghyun’s hot-and-cold shenanigans were getting old. Jiyong didn’t seem to mind now if he saw Seunghyun or not. He was cool and friendly when they did meet up; but during the month he allotted himself to calm down and take stock, Seunghyun found himself missing the real intimacy they’d shared, even the anxious messages from Jiyong in the small hours. It was for the best, he knew; but knowing didn’t make him feel any less bereft.

So Seunghyun spent his time with Haewon, which was certainly good for him and made her happy. He reminded himself that this was what life was supposed to be like.

“Who’s that?” he asked lazily, hearing the doorbell. It was ten at night, which was pretty late in terms of the hours he and Haewon kept.

“I’ll get it!” she called. Seunghyun clambered out of his armchair as she passed by the living-room. “Jiyong!” he heard her exclaim a moment later. “What a nice surprise!” Seunghyun got his ass in gear, immediately concerned. “Are you okay, honey?” came Haewon’s voice.

Seunghyun emerged in the entrance hall just in time to see Jiyong close the door behind him and carefully remove his Gucci loafers. He was wearing one of his oversized wool beanies against the chill, and when he pulled it off Seunghyun saw his hair was a candy rainbow of colour. His eyes flicked across to acknowledge the older man, but when he spoke it was to Haewon.

“Hey…I don’t wanna put you out or anything, but is it okay if I crash here tonight?” Jiyong didn’t look in a very rainbow mood. “My security alarm’s on the fritz and they can’t deal with it ‘til first thing tomorrow, and Dad’s away right now so the old house is empty too. I know it’s safe and all, it’s just…”

“Course you can,” said Haewon immediately, taking Jiyong’s arm and giving it a comforting pat. “It doesn’t put us out at all.”

Jiyong followed her into the apartment with no further greeting for his brother but a wary look. Seunghyun observed his pale little face, the tension in his shoulders, and knew he was lying about the alarm. Jiyong had had another flashback, or a panic attack, and it must have been a bad one to make him actually come and ask for help; the younger man had stopped seeking Seunghyun’s help long ago. It stung him that even Haewon was a better option for Jiyong now.

Haewon gave Jiyong tea and ordered Seunghyun to find pyjamas while they sat and chatted. Seunghyun made the spare bed too, then came back and took a seat opposite Jiyong; even if the younger man didn’t care to talk to him, he could show him he was ready to listen. Jiyong looked lovely as always, but too thin – Seunghyun had felt it the last time he’d tried to hug him, and now he could see it. There were faint shadows beneath his eyes. Again Seunghyun experienced an illogical pang of guilt that he hadn’t yet punished everyone who had made Jiyong feel like this – that it was somehow his fault.

“I decided to do another tour,” Jiyong was telling Haewon, which explained part of that tired look. “There’s less than two months left to set it up and it’s on three continents, so it’s, like, stress time.” Seunghyun scowled to himself; that was the kind of thing he should know about – he should be the first person Jiyong told. He vowed to himself then that as soon he had done what he needed to do, he would make things return to normal. He would treat Jiyong right again; once all this was over.

“Aren’t you excited?” said Haewon enthusiastically. “All those different countries, it’s so cool!” Jiyong nodded, and cracked a faint smile.

“If you wanna come to any of them, _noona_ , just say. I’d really like it, I can fly you out anywhere! VIP seats, hotel, the works.” Seunghyun felt a spark of jealousy at that, because he could see Jiyong meant it. And Haewon looked delighted.

“I’d love to! I haven’t even seen you in concert yet, I can make time between projects.” She glanced over at Seunghyun. “If you don’t mind me coming without Seunghyun; it’s hard to get our schedules to match.”

“Oh,” said Jiyong lightly, “I know Tabi won’t come, being so busy with _work_ and all.” There was definitely a dig at him there, thought Seunghyun gloomily, but he nodded anyway.

“‘Fraid so.” Haewon sighed; Jiyong just pursed his lips and didn’t push it.

Seunghyun stayed up for a while after his brother and girlfriend had gone to bed. He was feeling tremendously bad, because he knew Jiyong was going through something awful right now and had decided not to rely on him; had chosen to ignore him. Seunghyun supposed he ought to respect Jiyong’s decision. But his brother had come all the way here tonight. Surely that meant something.

“Jiyong,” Seunghyun said softly, opening the door to the spare room, where the bedside lamp still burned with a comforting glow. He was sure Jiyong wouldn’t be asleep.

“Get out of my room, please,” came an unsurprised but unimpressed voice from beneath the duvet. “I’m knackered.”

“What happened?” asked Seunghyun, shutting the door behind him and hovering beside it.

“Nothing.”

“Didn’t you come ‘cos you were upset?” Jiyong’s head remained resolutely hidden. “Don’t you want to tell me about it?”

“You know I don’t. I just want somewhere safe to sleep.”

“Come on, Jiyong,” entreated the older man, reeling in his urge to use all the old endearments for his brother. Jiyong kept quiet, so Seunghyun padded over to the bed and sat down beside the idol-shaped lump under the covers. Even if Jiyong didn’t want his sympathy anymore, he was damn well going to know Seunghyun was offering it.

“Christ,” said Jiyong, and his rainbow head appeared from the duvet. “What do you want from me, Tabi? Yeah, I had a really bad day. But I have bad days all the time. Just ‘cos you’re randomly in the mood to pay attention to me…it won’t make anything better.”

“Won’t it?”

“Maybe for _you_ ,” Jiyong ventured shrewdly. “Feeling guilty, are you? And now you’ve got some spare time you wanna spoil me? I can take care of myself!”

“Oh?” Seunghyun tugged the bedcovers down until he could extract Jiyong’s arm by the wrist; his slim hand was shaking. “You’re here, aren’t you? And you’re scared shitless!” Jiyong didn’t try to pull away, but turned icy in his grip.

“And yet every day I go on.” Seunghyun found his own fingers becoming gentle on his brother’s wrist; he could feel the bones there. He began to stroke the soft underside with its fine blue veins. “Let go,” ordered Jiyong.

“I haven’t been giving you what you need,” Seunghyun admitted in a low, intense voice. Jiyong stared at him like he was expecting more bullshit; he was still trembling. “But I promise you, I’m giving you all I can, whenever I can. I know it’s not enough,” he added when the smaller man sneered at him. “Just…don’t ever doubt that I’m _trying_.”

And with that he pulled Jiyong up into his arms, catching the delicious scent of his skin that was part expensive new perfume and part his own unique, familiar fragrance. Seunghyun inhaled without meaning to. His brother was stiff as a plank in his embrace, breath fast and nervous against his shoulder.

“…Get off,” said Jiyong in a small voice.

“I love you,” Seunghyun murmured into his hair, one hand stroking the back of his neck. “I know that doesn’t help you right now. But remember it: you’re my little brother, and _I love you_.”

“You asshole,” whispered Jiyong crossly. He remained frozen for a minute more. Then he burrowed into Seunghyun’s hug, and the older man felt an undeserved wave of relief and pleasure sweep through him as Jiyong’s skinny body turned limp and shivering against his.

“That’s right,” said Seunghyun in his ear. “I’m here.” Jiyong made a dubious noise into his sweater, but clung to him harder.

“…It was so fucking _bad_ this time.” His light voice took on a panicked edge that infuriated Seunghyun on his behalf. “I could smell that _smell_ and other things…I could hear them talking and the noises _I_ was making, fuck, Tabi, I’ve never been so ashamed in my life…!”

“You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of!” Seunghyun told him, holding him even tighter, like the old days.

“I know that.” Jiyong paused to stifle a tearful hiccup. “But I am anyway. Isn’t that dumb…?”

“You’re not dumb.” Seunghyun wanted to tell him so badly! Where he’d been all these weeks, who he’d been chasing and what he’d done to them… He wanted to assure Jiyong that his world would soon be set right again.

Jiyong buried his face in Seunghyun’s neck and gave a deep sigh. He didn’t say anything else, but he let Seunghyun keep holding him and eventually fell asleep. He’d been right, thought Seunghyun, agitated; being close to Jiyong _had_ helped. This made him feel both better and worse: yes, he’d been able to offer his brother support at a crisis point. But listening to Jiyong’s memories had made him angry all over again – the raw, insupportable fury that had spurred him to hunt down Minjun and Han. Seunghyun knew that after tonight his rest period was over. Tomorrow he would contact Gil, and events would continue down their inevitable path.

Seunghyun peered at Jiyong’s white face, eyes flickering through uneasy dreams beneath the fine skin of his lids. He was afraid that this was going to get a whole lot worse before it got better.

The morning only served to confirm it. Jiyong woke up early and disentangled himself from Seunghyun’s limbs, thanked him coolly and told him not to expect a repeat. To Seunghyun’s half-awake brain it looked like his brother was already regretting letting him close. Jiyong picked up his clothes and got dressed in the bathroom, then wrote a note for Haewon saying he had an early rehearsal. He handed it to Seunghyun, tight-lipped.

“Have a good day at work,” Jiyong said. “I’ll see you when I see you.” He was gone before Seunghyun could think of a decent reply.

Seunghyun shut the door, now beginning to doubt that he had made things better at all. The one thing he could congratulate himself on, he thought, was that he hadn’t told Jiyong what he had done for him. Or who was next.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, the third one,” Seunghyun told his PI. He was in Gil’s office for once, which was even untidier than his own. “His name’s Mun Taemin.”

“You think he’ll be easier to find than Han?” inquired Gil, through a mouthful of mochi. “And I thought you were taking a break.”

“I did already.” The older man looked sceptical. Seunghyun mentally squared his information about Jiyong’s third attacker; not much, but more than they’d known about Han. “So, Mun Taemin; he might be easier ‘cos he was a career soldier, and technically he’s still employed by the State. He just switched from active duty to a public service post, I think. Minjun thought he mentioned something about partying in Seoul, so I guess we start looking here.”

“Surprised Ji gave you such accurate information, actually.”

“Well,” said Seunghyun darkly, “he thought I was gonna let him off for good behaviour. It was in his interest to tell the truth for once in his horrible life.” Gil raised his eyebrows, but made no comment as to Seunghyun’s backtracking on the Minjun retribution issue.

“Okay, what else did he tell you?”

“Not much. The guy would probably be nearer his age than Han’s. And he said something once…said one of them has a ‘thing’ for pretty boys and bondage, and I’m guessing it’s Mun. I dunno if that helps find him – he could be gay and out now that he’s left active service, but he could just as easily be married.”

“It might help,” Gil mused. “If not to find him, at least to get some dirt on him; straight or not, he sounds like a predator. And if you can get him on the sex offender’s list, that’d be his life effectively over.” Seunghyun grimaced.

“It’s an awful thing to say, but…fingers crossed he’s hurt someone else. If we could prove that…”

“Let’s find him first.” Gil wiped his fingers. “I’m on it. You go back to work.”

Right, thought Seunghyun as he slid into his car and took the back streets away from Gil’s agency. He had a real job too, and a family, and his responsibility to both was the same: to make people’s lives better. He had to remember that.

 

* * *

 

 

“Found him,” announced Gil, less than a week later. Seunghyun grunted in satisfaction and took a couple of triumphant spins in his office chair. His secretary put her head round the door, and he shooed her away with a brief smile; progress felt _good_.

“Okay, hit me.”

“Mun Taemin. Thirty-nine years old, divorced; one twelve-year-old daughter, he sees her twice a month. Head of one of the public liaison departments at the Regional Military Manpower Administration.”

“Wait,” said Seunghyun, “aren’t they in charge of idol enlistment now? I’m sure Jiyong said his bandmate was processed by them.”

“Think I saw something in the paper, yeah.” Seunghyun would have to check with Daesung; he’d be sure to know. “Why?”

“Nothing. Just that if the creep has a fixation on beautiful young guys he couldn’t have picked a better workplace.”

“Good point,” acknowledged the PI. Seunghyun scribbled down a memo in his illegible hangul while Gil continued talking. “He’s got a small house on the edge of Itaewon; we haven’t checked it out properly yet, or his social life.”

“Let’s focus on that,” suggested Seunghyun. “He’s got a good, respectable job, right? If we’re gonna go looking for stuff we can use on him there’s no point expecting him to be involved in the same kind of shit as Minjun or Han. I want to know who he hangs out with, what he does in his free time – let’s see if anything matches my hunch.”

“Hunch?”

“That this guy’s completely sick.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You find anything interesting?” asked Seunghyun. Gil looked around in a vaguely paranoid way, pulling his phone out of his pocket and fiddling with it gingerly.

“Yeah. You were right. Or at least Ji was right; it’s fairly clear why Mun wanted in on what happened to your brother.”

“Called it.” It was frightening, the thought that Jiyong’s beautiful face – one of his biggest selling points – was also what made him vulnerable to dirtbags like Mun.

“I hired someone to follow him after work. He’s not domestic, doesn’t have a girlfriend: sometimes he goes for dinner with colleagues, occasionally meets up with other ex-Army guys. And a couple of times we’ve seen him at gay bars.”

“So is he, actually?”

“If he is, he’s not out,” said Gil. “But I don’t think it’s what he _is_ that matters. It’s what he does at home.”

“And you know that how?”

“Hidden cameras,” answered the PI, giving Seunghyun a nonchalant sideways glance to see how he’d react. “I had one of my guys go in while he was at work. Don’t worry, I’m billing you for it.”

“Then, whatever he’s doing, we can get proof,” said Seunghyun slowly.

“Yup.”

“Which we can’t actually use in court.” Gil nodded.

“I doubt it would be admissible as evidence, given that we were breaking and entering to set them up. But it’d certainly be enough to get an investigation going. Or for…y’know, leverage.”

“It’s illegal.”

“It certainly is,” Gil agreed. His mouth thinned into a prim expression of distaste as he unlocked his phone and began to open files, the screen turned away from Seunghyun. “But then, so is what _he_ gets up to. We got a few weeks of footage, and on several nights…yeah. And I’m the poor sucker who had to watch it. You’re welcome.”

“Minjun did say he’s into real S&M shit,” Seunghyun reminded him. Not that there was anything wrong with that as such, he told himself, among sane, respectful people; but the idea of Jiyong helpless and on the receiving end of those… _attentions_ made his skin crawl.

“That’s not what this is.” Seunghyun was grateful to his PI for stopping his imagination before it got started. ‘Well, it is, but…I mean, I’ve seen a lot of stuff, and there’s kinky and there’s…this.”

“Show me,” ordered Seunghyun.

“I think you’d prefer it if I just tell you.” Seunghyun opened his mouth to argue, and Gil shook his head. “What happened to your brother was awful. But at least he’s an adult.”

“If you think that makes it any better-” The younger man broke off. “Oh, no. That’s disgusting.”

“You said it.” Gil took another reluctant peek at his screen, keeping it turned away from Seunghyun. “I can’t swear from these that they’re not willing, and I can’t say for sure they’re not sixteen.” He shook his head. “But I’ll swear blind that none of them are eighteen.”

“Fuck,” said Seunghyun, his mind wandering off down a new unwelcome line of questions: where was this pervert Mun Taemin getting his partners, what was he bribing them with to agree, and what did he do with them if they didn’t? “All boys, right?”

“Yup.” The PI looked genuinely disgusted for the first time since Seunghyun had met him. “Never seen the same one twice. I’ll dig some more, try and find out if they’re hustlers or just regular kids.”

“Whatever they are,” growled Seunghyun, feeling his outrage fire up quite independently of his concerns for Jiyong, “it’s equally bad.” If they were working boys and underage it meant a web of exploitation wider than Mun’s sick games. Well, he could do something about that, at least: his senior partner had contacts in the Vice section of the Seoul police department – their firm had dealt with sex work cases before. Seunghyun could hand the problem to Jiyoo, she’d be all over it. The scum renting out these kids wouldn’t know what hit them when –

“Hey,” he heard Gil say. “You listening? I said, what you want to do about him next? You want him in jail, right?”

“You’re damn right.”

“We can give the police an anonymous tip,” the older man suggested, carefully tucking the phone away in his pocket. “Once they see this evidence he’s gonna find it impossible to wiggle out of an arrest.”

“…Not enough,” said Seunghyun after a while. His own voice sounded strange. “It might pay for Jiyong. Maybe. But that’s not all he’s done.” He unclenched his fists, his nails leaving crescent marks in his palms. “I want everyone to know what he is…to _see_ him.” The hope that Mun would get fucking knifed in prison – it wasn’t unheard of, for guys who hurt children – crossed his mind. Seunghyun tried to make it go away, but there it sat: the knowledge that if this man died, he would be happy.

“Can’t say I’m opposed,” said Gil. “I’ll give some thought as to our options.”

“Me too.”

They both went their separate ways. Dwelling on it afterwards, back in his office – there was no chance he’d be able to focus on any more work today – Seunghyun became aware of a sense of evolution in his goals and expectations. He realised now that he was content to have Gil break the law to get the results he wanted; and that the results he hoped for were themselves changing, stretching the limits of his moral centre in brand new directions. Seunghyun knew it ought to worry him; but what worried him the most was that he didn’t care.

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay,” said Gil a couple of weeks later, over the phone. “We’ve done some asking around. I’m starting to think I’m _not_ going to remember this as my favourite job.”

“And?” Seunghyun was almost relieved to take the call and escape the frosty atmosphere at their dad’s; their father had been needling Jiyong about bringing a girlfriend home – it had worked so well on Seunghyun – and the younger man was understandably taking his irritation out on his big brother. It almost felt like they’d gone back in time fifteen years. Seunghyun had been about to start a petty argument when Gil had phoned him and he’d had an excuse to retreat to the garden.

“And I’m sorry to say I was mostly right,” he heard Gil continue. “Only two of the kids we have footage of are over seventeen.”

“Urgh.” A guilty conscience reminded Seunghyun that he didn’t exactly have the moral high ground here, given what he and his brother had got up to when Jiyong was sixteen. But that was totally different! Jiyong hadn’t been forced or even manipulated – at least, Seunghyun didn’t think so – and they certainly hadn’t been doing any of the twisted shit Mun was into.

“He picks some of them up in bars – there’re a few shady places in Itaewon that don’t bother with ID. I showed you his picture, right? He _is_ quite good-looking, for a certain type.” The PI sounded ambivalent. “Obviously he’s preying on the dumbest teenagers, but at least they agreed. Nominally.”

“Still a crime,” Seunghyun pointed out. “At their age. And what happens to them after?”

“They get home in the end. Having learned a really harsh lesson about getting picked up by strangers.”

“Mmph.” Seunghyun knew it was still a prosecutable offence, so long as they could prove his partners were underage – the whole bondage element would be just another nail in Mun’s coffin. “What about the others?”

“He pays them.” Gil said it like it was something distasteful. For Seunghyun, it was even more tragic than the idea of luring in idiot twinks from bars. At least _they_ had a choice about whether to go. “We’re still checking to see where he solicits them – there’s got to be someone else running this circus, someone who’s getting the cash. I mean, these are real cute kids, but they don’t exactly look well taken care of.”

“This is so goddamn disgusting,” announced Seunghyun hotly. Gil made a noise of agreement. “Send me all the info you have on the ones you know are hustling; anything the cops could use to help identify who’s running it. I’m gonna pass it to someone who’ll make sure something’s done about it.”

“Good.” The PI paused. “What about Mun?”

“…It has to be public,” said Seunghyun. “I can’t give him the chance to cover up what he’s doing – I want it shoved right down people’s throats, so everyone around him knows he’s a monster. Then they can go ahead and arrest him, and the military or the government or whoever won’t be able to do a damn thing to stop it even if they wanted to.”

“Why would they?”

“He was an active duty soldier for years before he moved over to public service; I think he did something to his back, that was the only reason. If he keeps ties with the Army…well.” Seunghyun scowled. “Trusting the military machine to do what ought to be done if it gives them a bad name…I can’t anymore. Not after how they dealt with Jiyong.”

“Fair enough,” said Gil neutrally. “So, a public shaming.”

“Yeah. At his work, I guess.”

“Don’t forget his social media.”

“Right.” Seunghyun lit a cigarette, scooting round behind the garden shed so he wasn’t visible from the house; he didn’t fancy any more scolding. “How soon can you do it, and what do you need?”

“A week to get organized,” Gil said after a moment. “The rest oughta be easy: I just need a photocopier, his mother’s maiden name, and enough cash to hire a ghost for a couple of hours.”

“Fine.” Seunghyun exhaled smoke. “I want in on this, Gil, I want to help. Tell me what I have to do.”

 

* * *

 

 

She was the plainest woman Seunghyun had ever seen. Even looking right at her she was difficult to describe, and her voice had a soft, neutral emptiness that he had no doubt would make her even more forgettable. No wonder Gil had called her a ghost. She showed him the thick envelope of photocopies; Seunghyun only caught a glimpse of the pictures, but they were enough to make him nauseous. She didn’t seem fazed.

“Where do you want them put?”

“All over these two office buildings.” Seunghyun gave her the addresses of Mun’s department and the headquarters of the Regional MMA. “Especially around this guy’s desk; he’s the head of department, seventh floor.”

He told her the name, and she nodded. She didn’t ask anything else: not why, or when. But Seunghyun felt confident that by the end of the week the sicko’s scandals and criminal acts would be the talk of the entire public service district, if not the whole country. The same images hacked onto Mun’s social media would help, too; Gil was taking care of that himself. Of course it would be enough to get the bastard fired, and almost certainly put under investigation. Seunghyun wondered if he would run like Han had; there’d be no-one to help him, not after these photos got around. But just to be sure, he’d make sure Vice got copies as well.

“You might want me to deliver some of these to the police too,” the nondescript woman suggested calmly, as if she knew what Seunghyun had been thinking. “Just in case.” That was slightly creepy, but Seunghyun nodded. Without another word she walked off, and five minutes later, on his way to meet Jiyong – he was late, but it would be worth it if this paid off – he had forgotten what she looked like.

 

* * *

 

 

They were having another of their arguments; the only difference was that this one was public. Jiyong had been trying his very hardest to detach from his brother. It had been going pretty well until he’d caved in to Seunghyun’s sweetness the other week – that had been a bad night, and waking up in his arms had made it worse. Since then it felt like they’d been alternately freezing each other out and deliberately ragging on each other until one of them blew up and vented all his feelings at once. It was too bad, thought Jiyong as he watched Seunghyun grip his glass hard and down its contents, that they couldn’t seem to synchronise their whims well enough to see eye to eye for an evening.

Right now it was Seunghyun’s turn to act frigid and Jiyong’s to resent it.

“Because I was working!” announced Seunghyun in response to his brother’s pissed-off shout over the sound of the DJ – Seungri again. “You know, work? The thing normal _boring_ people do.” That was rich, thought Jiyong; he’d bet the royalties for his last single that Seunghyun hadn’t been at the office but had slipped home to have a nice time with his girlfriend before he turned up three hours late.

“Oh, right,” said Jiyong loudly, vaguely noticing that the usual crowd around him had backed off a bit and was studiously ignoring the two of them. He told himself he ought to be careful: that would be all he needed, to get snapped by some blogger having a teenage fight with his brother. On the other hand, right now he really felt like picking one. “I suppose you’re gonna leave early too!”

“No,” Seunghyun retorted coldly, having emptied his glass in one gulp. “Unless you want me to.”

“Oh, shut up. Come and dance with me.”

“Fine. But take those stupid sunglasses off, I can’t tell who you’re talking to.”

Jiyong got up and wound his way down from the VIP area to the dance floor, not checking to see if Seunghyun was following. It was probably easier for them to not talk right now; he had the distinct urge to antagonise him. It was hard to really make Seunghyun mad, but Jiyong had always had a knack for it. He pushed through to a space in front of the DJ booth – people always made room for you if you were famous – found some acquaintances, and began to dance. He spotted Seungri waving down at him and blew him a kiss to annoy Seunghyun, who had just arrived behind him and was shaking it in his dorky way with a junior _Vogue_ editor.

A minute later one of Jiyong’s favourite songs came on, and he knew Seungri had picked it just for him. He closed his eyes and moved as the tempo sped up, he could almost lose himself in euphoria as the endorphins hit his system; he did love to dance! When he next looked round he saw Seunghyun watching him, those great big eyes reluctantly following the flick of his hips. Jiyong was still angry at his brother – but that _look_ , he hadn’t felt that in so long, and it brought all his turbulent fantasies to the fore. That was how he wanted Seunghyun: the heat of him, not this chilliness.

They danced for a while longer until Jiyong was worn out from the press of people around them. Seunghyun saw that he was flagging and led him silently back to their booth, shooing a couple of backing dancers along to make room for him. Jiyong was pleased when Seunghyun flopped down beside him and slid an arm along the seat-back behind his head. Perhaps that was all he had needed, a bit of a dance to thaw him out. But Jiyong wasn’t about to let him off the hook that easily.

“Are you having fun, Tabi?” he asked, scooting closer to speak to him.

“It’s nice to get out occasionally,” Seunghyun admitted. He was quite beautiful like this, thought Jiyong, accepting another drink sent over by the club manager and admiring the flush from dancing that had spread across Seunghyun’s high cheekbones. “What d’you wanna do after this? Are you gonna stay out all night?” Jiyong leaned back against his arm, feeling tipsy and warm, the muscles in Seunghyun’s bicep firm against his neck. He wondered if he could get Seunghyun to heat up any more.

“What I _want_ to do? Right now I wanna fuck you,” he told him recklessly. Christ, he could imagine it: he could take Seunghyun into the club’s fancy private bathroom, wrap his legs around the bigger man and have him right there against the wall until neither of them could stand up. If that didn’t help him forget the last crappy six months, nothing would. Immediately Seunghyun froze. “Oh, get off it, you know we’re past that,” Jiyong went on, perhaps less honestly. He knew he was being a bitch right now. “But it’s been a long time, and it’s not like _I_ have a girlfriend to help. So you’re looking pretty good to me. That’s all.”

“Why the hell would you say that?!” muttered Seunghyun, who had to lean in to speak into his ear. Jiyong grunted.

“Truthfully? I’m _quite_ drunk. What else was I gonna do for three hours while I waited for your ass to show up?”

“I already explained that.” Seunghyun removed his arm from around the smaller man. “You’re trying to piss me off on purpose, right?” His hand was resting on his knee now, balled into a fist.

“Just trying to coax a _rise_ out of you,” said Jiyong goadingly. He gave Seunghyun a pseudo-friendly nudge and lowered his voice. “It’s the only kind I’m likely to get these days.”

“Don’t be cheap.”

“You used to like it when I joked around,” Jiyong challenged him. “You said it was good for me!” That was true – after the assault Seunghyun had encouraged humour and even innuendo, any kind of sexual levity in the younger man.

“You can’t _say_ shit like that,” snapped Seunghyun. “Not in front of me, not anymore! Even as a joke.” He looked deeply uncomfortable, and Jiyong could no longer tell whether it was because the comments had got him excited or because he actually wasn’t interested.

“Okay, I’ll try it out on Seungri!” That always used to make Seunghyun jealous.

“Do,” replied Seunghyun spitefully. “Try it with _me_ again and I’m going home.”

“Which you’ve been wanting to do since you got here.” They were back to the very beginning of their evening, realised Jiyong. He wondered what the hell was wrong with him. “…What was it, Tabi?” he asked, serious at last. “I mean really. What changed? You used to like hanging out with me, even after…after Haewon.”

“Nothing’s changed for me!” insisted Seunghyun, rounding on him. “You _know_ if I could I’d spend every damn minute of my day with you!”

“So what’s stopping you?” Seunghyun was such a _liar_.

“ _You_ stopped me,” the older man told him bitterly. “When you made me leave you.”

And Jiyong had nothing to say to that; what could he say? It was the one bit of truth that had come out of Seunghyun’s mouth tonight. He dropped his eyes from Seunghyun’s accusing stare and gazed blindly at the neon drink in his hands. When he looked up again his brother had made good on his threat and gone.

“What is it?” enquired Seungri over the next DJ’s music, dropping down in Seunghyun’s vacated seat and leaning companionably against him. Jiyong wondered how pathetic he really looked right now; he felt that his light was beginning to burn very low – was it showing? He tipped his head back.

“…I think I’m a fucking idiot.”

 

What the hell was _that_?! thought Seunghyun, panicked, as he stumbled out of the club and flagged down a taxi to take him home. Jiyong had reacted to Seunghyun’s weirdness in various ways since the older man had begun his string of reprisals, but he had never been a tease, and had _never_ straight up admitted that he still wanted him. Seunghyun fervently wished he hadn’t; if this was going to be his brother’s new game, he would have to avoid him like the damn plague!

By the time he got back to the apartment he was a mess of paranoid horniness and confusion, to say nothing of the adrenaline and dark anticipation that sprang from what he had set in motion before he arrived at the club. Now his mind wouldn’t focus on either problem but kept flitting between dismay at what Jiyong had done and the bated breath of whether his attack on Mun would pay off.

Seunghyun rummaged in the bathroom cabinet and took three ibuprofen dry, then got changed and fell into bed. And there was Haewon, plain white tshirt and mussed hair, waking up just enough to slide a comforting arm over his stomach before going limp with sleep again. She always smelled like trees. Seunghyun took a deep, deliberate breath, holding the scent in his nostrils. When he exhaled again he felt marginally calmer. Not for the first time, he silently thanked her for being there. Jiyong was right: he was lucky to have her.

His heart returned slowly to its resting rate. Eventually Seunghyun drifted off, and mercifully couldn’t remember what he dreamt.

 

* * *

 

 

“You got the paper?” Seunghyun asked Haewon on the Tuesday, shovelling organic granola absently down his face. He was always a zombie in the mornings, more than ever since he’d begun his extracurricular activities, which took place mostly at night. Haewon nodded, almost as sleepy before her daily yoga session.

“Hold on, I’m nearly done.” She pulled out the TV section and passed him the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Seunghyun flipped past the usual global tragedies and political crises to the domestic news, and went still. Haewon looked up.

“That sex scandal, right?” she said. “I can’t believe he got away with that _gross_ stuff so long. Don’t they vet public officials better than that? Those poor boys! Of course the paper doesn’t mention what’s being done for _them_.” She shook her head and splashed milk violently into her bowl.

Seunghyun didn’t reply. He just stared at Mun’s mugshot-style photo in the centre of a half-page article detailing his arrest and the immanence of statutory rape and other charges. There was a picture of the guy’s desk in the Regional MMA, every inch of the area around it plastered with images of Mun’s most sordid activities and the pixelated faces of his victims. It was too blurry to see with any detail – the paper couldn’t possibly print something so heinous – but the article described at length how the picture explosion had brought the entire organization grinding to a halt. There were damning quotes from Mun’s boss and the Chief of Police, and horrified ones from his ex-wife and other relatives who had been ambushed by the photos posted on his social media.

This was it, thought Seunghyun, almost unable to breathe. Mun was _done_. It felt…how _did_ he feel? Seunghyun wondered, glaring at the sicko’s picture. Mun sure as hell _looked_ guilty – everyone did in their police photo – his well-proportioned face pitted with dark shadows that surely reflected the monster inside him. Mun was the ugliest person Seunghyun had ever seen, and he decided that mostly he felt virtuous.

“…I gotta go,” he mumbled, bending to give Haewon a distracted kiss. He had to wake Gil up and make him check that everything was going smoothly; that no-one in the Police department or military was trying to jam their oar into Mun’s downfall.

No-one was. Everyone was sickened at what Mun had done – or at least at how incontrovertibly public it had become. No-one was going to defend him, said Daesung, who had commandeered Seunghyun and made him go for drinks. Of course the military lawyer was keeping an eye on the progress of this case; he probably found it fascinating.

“The public already assumes that the military hide all kinds of things,” he reminded Seunghyun. “Which they do. If they try to ameliorate such a massive scandal, journalists might actually go looking for real cover-ups they’re involved in.”

“Good,” muttered Seunghyun into his drink. “Sick fuck.”

“Certainly is that.” Daesung managed to quit smiling for five seconds, but it was soon back on his face. “Don’t worry; no way is he getting out of this one.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You know,” said Gil jerkily from the treadmill next to Seunghyun’s, “if this works and…the prosecution goes through like you want it to…he’s gonna be in for multiple charges of assaulting a minor.”

“Yeah, he is. Because he _did_ , and now the whole country knows it.” It had been in the papers every day, and after a week of public outrage and death threats and a big rise in donations to child abuse prevention charities, the court date was set.

The scandal had broken big enough that the major talent agencies had all needed to have their say in the papers, voicing their concern for their charges in the strongest possible terms. After all, it was the organisation Mun worked for that handled all their trainees and stars in their transition to military service. Even YG had been tapped for a statement, but luckily Jiyong hadn’t mentioned it. Seunghyun hoped he was too busy to read the news.

“You hear what the punishment is for…multiple counts of that stuff? Oh, God, how do I slow this thing down?!” Seunghyun hopped off his own machine and reset Gil’s to a stroll.

“Imprisonment, put on the sex offender’s register,” he said in deep satisfaction, leaning against the treadmill bars. He’d had rendezvous with his PI in some random places, but this one took the prize.

“Also chemical castration, right?” pressed Gil. He was still puffing.

“Yeah, sometimes. Depends on the case.” Seunghyun knew what his PI was getting at.

“I mean, it’s fine by me, I’m never gonna sit on any ethics committee,” the older man carried on, giving up and getting off the machine. “And I had to watch all the shit he did.”

“Exactly.”

“But aren’t you a human rights lawyer?” Seunghyun gave him a sour look over the top of his face towel, but Gil wasn’t easily quelled these days. “I hear the big international interest groups call it cruel and unusual punishment.”

“I know what they call it,” said Seunghyun: a human rights violation. Of course he knew, the case had revived the debate on the subject: what if Mun were to ask their firm to help appeal against such a ruling? Among his work colleagues and friends Seunghyun tried to offer a balanced, reasonable view when it cropped up. But deep down he would be wondering how many victims, including his brother, such a punishment could have saved if they’d got to Mun earlier. Seunghyun couldn’t have a reasoned discussion about this, not after what had happened to Jiyong – all his ethical considerations flew out the window.

“So you’re satisfied we did a good job?” interrupted Gil. Seunghyun sighed and clapped him on the shoulder; his sweater was damp.

“Is that what you’re bothered about? Yeah, you did. Turned out just the way it should, for once. Now let’s go get a smoothie or something before you keel over.”

He didn’t see the need to mention that public shaming, imprisonment, and debilitating medication now seemed an easy option; that Mun ought to consider himself lucky. Seunghyun didn’t say that he was still hoping daily for some other prisoner to take the law into their own hands.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For once Seunghyun's revenge plot goes as planned. Go boy! Until next time...
> 
> Thank you as ever for reading and for your kind and incisive comments :)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong leaves the country following a dangerous near miss, and Seunghyun realises the last man down will be the hardest of all.

After the stupid, stupid thing he had said at the club Jiyong hadn’t seen his brother at all. Seunghyun was avoiding him like desire was contagious. The only silver lining was that he didn’t have to hear any more of Seunghyun’s lame excuses – the older man could spend as much time as he wanted canoodling with Haewon now, and not have to tell a lie. It was a very _faint_ silver lining, because the memories of his ordeal continued.

Jiyong was so unhappy he even started seeing his psychiatrist again – not because he thought she would tell him anything he wanted to hear, but simply to get some useful coping techniques that might help him through the day. He told her about the flashbacks, too. She was the only one he could talk to now. That was the most pathetic thing.

“I agree,” said Kanayama, looking at him benignly as always. “That’s why I suggested talking to someone with less baggage of their own; someone you’re not so emotionally tied to as your brother. Remember?”

“Yes.” Jiyong had never been able to, not in all these years, and later had been so convinced he had beaten his trauma that he hadn’t even tried. But until now Seunghyun had been enough. He wished now he hadn’t burned his bridges with his cousin – there was no one close enough to family he could lean on when it came to _this_. “I just…can’t.” The doctor sighed.

“I know it’s difficult, especially for you. But these memories…you can’t waste them. Don’t let them cause you pain and nothing else. Use them to do something helpful.”

“Like…what?”

“Like opening up,” said Kanayama patiently. “Of course you want it kept secret from the world at large. But don’t allow it to shut you in. Use it to reach out!”

Jiyong still didn’t understand how talking about what had happened to him would help; surely if anything it would cut him off from whoever he told? From awkwardness, if nothing else. Nobody wanted to hear about that sort of thing.

“Maybe.” He knew she would pick up on his reluctance.

“Just try.”

Jiyong made an ambivalent face. He didn’t want to. And if he did… _who_? Who was left?

 

* * *

 

 

“There’s only one left,” said Seunghyun. “Assuming Mun’s appeal doesn’t go through. And it’s the one that started it all. He was calling the shots, I _know_ it.”

“Okay.” Gil took a swig of soda while his client moved on to his second glass of wine. “Give me the details and we’ll start looking.

“No need for that.” Seunghyun felt his jaw clench. “I know exactly where he is. He’s still on active duty at my old base.” He passed Gil a memo with Lee Sejun’s name and rank.

“So what am I looking for?”

“Dirt,” Seunghyun told him. “I know his family’s from Seoul, I remember him telling me, so I’m guessing when he’s on furlough he comes back here. And if his bragging wasn’t complete bullshit he spends his holidays drinking and gambling and picking up women.”

“You think he’s like Ji?” asked Gil. Seunghyun thought.

“Minjun was an addict. I think Lee likes control way too much to have the same problems as him. But don’t take that for granted, ask around; I _have_ to find a way to take him down!”

“Cool off there,” Gil advised him, observing his face. “This one’s really under your skin, isn’t he.”

“He’s the only one Jiyong remembers, and what he remembers is terrible. Among other reasons.”

“In that case,” said the PI sensibly, “do you even need more leverage? If the Army took DNA samples after it happened and your brother tells them what he remembered, won’t they be able to match the evidence to Lee?”

“If they wanted to, I’m sure they could.” Seunghyun pushed a hand through his hair and ordered another drink. “But my friend – the one who recommended you – told me that they certainly won’t want to. Not unless Jiyong kicks up enough of a fuss to make them reopen that case.”

“But-”

“And the way it all panned out at the time,” Seunghyun continued, “was that Jiyong was allowed to leave his military service if he kept quiet. As far as the public and probably most of the Army is concerned, the attack didn’t even happen; he just had a bad accident.” He made a frustrated noise. “I don’t even know if they’d have kept the file or any of the evidence. What everyone wanted at the time was for the whole story to go away.”

“Oh,” said Gil. “…So we shouldn’t count on support from the military.”

“Right.”

“Does this mean it’s going to be difficult to talk to the people around him? That’s where we get a bunch of our intel.”

“You won’t be able to speak to soldiers on base,” Seunghyun said. “At least, they probably won’t want to talk to you. I might have better luck if I served with them, but… You’ll have to get them when they come down off the mountain for furlough. And he must have civilian friends in Seoul. Lee likes being the centre of attention,” he added sourly.

“Best case scenario, then: we find some evidence of a different crime that the military won’t help him hide. Then your lawyer friend can advise on how to get him discharged and in jail. Yes?”

“Yes,” said Seunghyun. He hoped Gil was right; but something in the pit of his stomach told him it wouldn’t be that simple.

 

* * *

 

 

“I want to speak to Lee Sejun, please. Is his troop off duty? I’ll wait.” Seunghyun heard the soldier on the other end of the line place the receiver down. He closed his eyes and took some calming breaths. He had to go through with this; no, he _wanted_ to. There could be no chickening out now.

Seunghyun hadn’t bothered confronting Han and Mun with what they had done; he hadn’t needed to in order to punish them, and as long as they got what they deserved he was content not to know the fuckers any better. Minjun had been different: Seunghyun needed information, and there had been no way to make him give that up without threatening him. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that he had known Minjun – they had even been friends, or so he had thought. Minjun was _personal_ , and justice had been that much sweeter because he’d known it was coming.

Lee Sejun was the same: Seunghyun couldn’t leave it alone. He tried, of course, letting Gil and his investigators pry into Lee’s off-duty life and connections as much as they liked. He was counting on them to find some criminal activity or at least blackmail material. But knowing they were on the job didn’t assuage the truly outraged sense of betrayal Seunghyun felt every time he thought about the older soldier. He remembered Lee well, every rough, jovial conversation and ambiguous compliment disguised as an insult; and when he did Minjun’s words rose up and banged around his skull: that Lee had chosen Jiyong out of spite, because he had missed his chance with Seunghyun. Yeah, this was personal all right.

It was why Seunghyun was sitting here in his spare bedroom on a Saturday afternoon, hand gripping his second phone hard enough that he could hear it creak, waiting to talk to a rapist. He couldn’t resist it any longer, and there was no reason left for him to hide. He wanted Lee to know what he was in for. He wanted him to be _scared_. He knew it probably wasn’t wise; Seunghyun often thought these days that he was losing all his long-cherished restraint, and what Jiyong had done in the club had made him feel even more off-kilter. But how could he help it, when –

As soon as Lee picked up the phone and said his name, Seunghyun knew that he knew.

“Long time no speak,” he heard Lee say casually, and the sound of that long-ago voice was enough now to make him shudder. “Though I thought I’d maybe hear from you sooner or later.”

“Why’s that?” asked Seunghyun, fighting a hard battle to keep the murderous rage from his voice.

“Been followin’ your career,” Lee told him. “Just lately. Since I heard what happened to Minjun.”

“Oh? What did happen?”

“Funny, aren’t you,” said Lee. His voice wasn’t angry; he didn’t even sound apprehensive. “So. How you been?”

“I’m just great.” Seunghyun took a breath with a growl in it. “Unlike my brother.”

“Your brother?” The older man’s tone was puzzled. “Don’t believe I… Oh, right, the idol, course. He left us pretty early. Wonder why.”

Seunghyun couldn’t believe the effrontery of it: the calm, cool act Lee was putting on, as if he had never done worse to Jiyong than cut ahead of him in the lunch line. He wondered why the bastard bothered dissembling; he must know that Seunghyun had discovered everything. Maybe Lee had been watching too many thrillers and thought the phone was being tapped.

“You know why,” spat Seunghyun.

“Do I?”

As a matter of fact Seunghyun _was_ taping the call, and if Lee said something incriminating he would follow it up in a hot second. If he didn’t Seunghyun planned to wipe the recording, because he absolutely intended on threatening Lee.

“I didn’t call to get a confession out of you,” Seunghyun assured him. “It really doesn’t matter now.”

“Look, kid, it’s good to hear from you.” Seunghyun could hear Lee shift; he could picture the bigger man now, the same pleased smirk on his face he’d had when he used to tease Seunghyun back at base. The thought of that face made him feel sick. “But I have no idea what you’re bangin’ on about.”

“Yes you do.” He lowered his voice. “It wasn’t even about him, was it? It was about me.”

“What’s that now?” For a moment Seunghyun thought he caught a note of genuine surprise in Lee’s tone.

“You shouldn’t have done it,” said Seunghyun icily. “Just to get back at me. You’re not only _evil_ , you’re stupid!” He lowered his voice in disgust. “…You should’ve tried your luck while you had the chance rather than lay one finger on my brother.”

“What the fuck’re you talking about?” came Lee’s scornful voice.

“You know damn well. Minjun told me.” Seunghyun inhaled slowly; the very thought of it was revolting, in light of what he now knew Lee was like. An expectant silence on the line. “If you had…feelings for me you should’ve said so at the time, or done what every other man does: get the hell over it! Not wait eight years and – and do what you did to Jiyong.”

Another pause; then Lee _laughed_ , and to his fury Seunghyun knew the bastard still wasn’t afraid of him. Lee thought his position would protect him; that being in the military would save him. It didn’t make Seunghyun feel any better knowing that he was probably right.

“‘Feelings’? I didn’t _love you_ , ya stupid twink!” the other man drawled. Seunghyun had to bite his tongue to keep from snarling at him. “I just wanted your pretty lips wrapped round my cock.” Hearing him say it made Seunghyun feel physically ill in a way thinking about it hadn’t.

“Shut up.” Dammit, he was losing control.

“You blame me?” said Lee laconically, and his tone told Seunghyun that he was sure he was in charge of the conversation now. “Stuck on a mountain with two hundred dudes, who wouldn’t get hard from a face like yours?”

“You-!”

“You were so beautiful,” Lee told him, having now decided to be honest about all the things Seunghyun least wanted to hear. He sounded almost fond. “Are you still?”

“That,” managed Seunghyun with a violent shudder, “is completely irrelevant. I only called to tell you one thing.”

“What’s that, pretty boy?” asked the older man indulgently. Seunghyun bit back another snarl, and reined his voice in until it was cutting and chilly again.

“ _Get ready_.” And he hung up.

 

* * *

 

 

To Jiyong’s surprise, and subsequent disquiet, Haewon invited him to stay with her for the few days’ holiday he’d left himself between rehearsals and the beginning of his new tour.

“It’ll be fun,” she said encouragingly over Skype, her round face looking enthusiastic on his screen. “We could go hiking somewhere quiet, or if you’re too tired we can just watch movies and eat. You’re getting too thin!” She always said that.

“But-” began Jiyong. He wondered what Seunghyun would have to say about that; Jiyong was sure his brother would have planned something to entertain his girlfriend, given that it was a national holiday.

“Come on. I’ll feed you!” Haewon offered. “I know you can’t cook worth a bean.” Jiyong nodded wryly. “I’ll make you all the stuff Chan-mi does. I’d like to help cheer you up, Jiyong,” she continued. “You’ve been looking so tired. But you’d really be doing me the favour; your brother’s so tied up with work these days he’s hardly ever home, and I always have a good time when you’re here!”

Jiyong sat up straighter at that, startled. He had to press his lips together to stop himself proclaiming his surprise out loud. Jiyong knew damn well that Seunghyun wasn’t working. But if Haewon herself thought he was at the office… Jiyong bit his lip and began worrying. It was a familiar feeling by now. If Seunghyun wasn’t with Haewon every night…where was he? And what the hell was he doing?

“…All right,” he said slowly, and Haewon beamed. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Good boy! This is going to be so nice.”

 

It _was_ nice, Jiyong reflected, as he and Haewon lay on their backs in the middle of one of her landscaping projects. It was a park, still closed to the public. Jiyong pulled his jacket tighter around him as the vivid autumn maples rustled above them, and shut his eyes. The places Haewon designed seemed to carry something of her character within them, much as he hoped his songs did for him. He felt comfortable here.

Jiyong’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he tugged it out, pulling his glove off with his teeth to unlock it. He sighed.

“Anything important?” enquired Haewon lazily, still watching the sky through the pattern of leaves. “It’d be a shame if you have to go.”

“Just a message from Tabi.”

“Come out of the woodwork, has he?” Jiyong saw her smile. “What’s he got to say for himself?”

“He…just wanted to know if I’m doing okay.” Jiyong wasn’t inclined to elaborate – not after what had happened the previous night. But he didn’t want to think about _that_.

“He _is_ sweet,” said Haewon, in the tone of placid approval she generally used when referring to Seunghyun.

“Mm.”

“To you, especially.” She turned her head to observe him; her look was never invasive, but right now Jiyong picked up a certain curiosity. “Are you sure everything’s all right?” probed Haewon.

“Course.” Jiyong pursed his lips uncomfortably.

“It’s just that…he _has_ been spending a lot of time with you lately.” Jiyong was the only one who knew _that_ wasn’t true, but he didn’t want to say so until he had figured out what Seunghyun was really doing. “He messages you all the time when we’re at home, too. And, well; you’ve seemed a bit…I guess a bit down for a while now,” Haewon added more perceptively.

“It’s not important,” said Jiyong quickly, and felt a small spike in his usual background level of anxiety. He let his breath out and looked away, trying to regain the sense of tranquillity he had been enjoying before Seunghyun’s text.

“If there’s something, you can tell me,” came Haewon’s soft voice. Jiyong swallowed. He _couldn’t_. “You’re almost my little brother, Jiyong,” she said, and he had to blink very hard to stop himself welling up. Why was it so difficult to hold it together today? Last night… But _no_ , he wouldn’t think about that. Haewon rolled onto her side. “I’d be honoured if you ever want to talk to me,” she told him earnestly. “So long as you know that.”

“Thanks,” managed Jiyong, and couldn’t keep his next breath steady. He knew she had heard it. Haewon went back to looking at the sky. Then Jiyong felt his mouth open without any permission from his brain, and heard himself say: “There is something.”

Haewon didn’t respond; Jiyong flicked a panicked glance at her and saw her gazing dreamily upwards. Still, he was aware she was listening.

“…A few years ago,” said Jiyong slowly, his stomach clutching with apprehension, “something bad happened to me.” He swallowed, set his jaw, and stared up in the same direction as the quiet woman beside him. “…I was raped. While I was in the Army. I don’t know who they were,” he continued in a rush, because he didn’t think he’d ever be able to speak again if he stopped. “And nothing ever happened because I couldn’t _remember_. But recently…things keep coming back to me, and it’s…” He shook his head. “It’s been difficult.”

For a minute Haewon didn’t react. Jiyong was too afraid to look at her. This was what he’d been scared of when Kanayama had suggested he reach out! What if he had just embarrassed her?

“Your brother knows what happened,” she said at last, and her voice was just like usual.

“Yeah. So if he seems…weird lately…I guess that’s why.”

“What about other support?” asked Haewon. “Does anyone else know, have there been people you can talk to?”

“I’ve got a therapist,” Jiyong admitted. “And a few other people are aware of it.” He rubbed a hand across his face. “But to the rest of the world…oh my god, and my _dad_ …I’ve just lied to them for the last four years.”

“You had to.” It didn’t sound like she was judging him, but she was always so collected it was hard to tell. Jiyong nodded shakily.

“My therapist kept telling me to talk to someone apart from Tabi. But I _couldn’t_ , I…”

He broke off and bit his lip hard, and still couldn’t stifle the low, miserable sound that came out. Then he felt Haewon’s gloved hand touch his; it made him start, and she retreated for a moment, only to return and link his fingers delicately with hers. He still couldn’t look at her. But slowly, like an infection being drawn from a wound, Jiyong felt some of the recent panic and old disgust leach out of himself and into the ground beneath him. It was the strangest sensation, and quite unnerving; was _this_ what Kanayama had meant?

“Thank you for telling me,” said Haewon solemnly. Jiyong glanced across now, his eyes still wet, and found her looking at him. For a wonder he didn’t feel embarrassed. “I won’t say anything; not even to your brother, unless you want me to.”

“…Thanks for listening,” replied Jiyong at last. More than anything she’d said, the fact that she could hear all that that and still look him in the eye was…he didn’t know, but it had to be pretty damned amazing. “I’m all right. Honestly.”

“You poor baby,” murmured Haewon suddenly, and through the film of tears over his eyes he saw hers had turned bright too. “You’re so brave!” She opened her arms, and before he could decide if this was a good idea Jiyong had rolled over and was leaning tentatively into her hug. He closed his hands in the padded back of her jacket, and shut his eyes. If any paparazzi caught them now, he thought, there would be hell to pay. But he didn’t move away.

Haewon let him lie like that, and didn’t say anything else. It was a very weird feeling, thought Jiyong. Here she was, the most galling obstacle between himself and his brother, and by rights he ought to resent the very idea of being this near to her. But at the same time it was so _restful_ – to embrace someone and have them hold him close without any accompanying desire, or fear that they’d go too far. For those few minutes Haewon felt more like he imagined a sibling ought to than Seunghyun ever had. And with the older man being so strange and contrary… Once again Jiyong could see why Seunghyun loved her. She was certainly a nicer person than either of them.

Once he was calm again Haewon drew back and gave him a serene smile.

“It’s getting late. You want chiggae and toppogi and real chocolate cocoa?” Jiyong nodded, feeling fragile but surprisingly calm. “Okay, let’s go home.”

“Is Tabi in tonight?” asked Jiyong anxiously, as they picked themselves up and headed back through the park. That fancy French cocoa was one of his brother’s favourites.

“I hope so!” Haewon said, fiddling with her taxi app until Jiyong stopped her and called for his town car. “But even if it’s just the two of us it’ll be nice.”

Jiyong agreed. It would be even nicer if he knew what Seunghyun was up to.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong had seen his brother only twice since he had come to stay. The first was mid-afternoon yesterday, when he and Haewon were staying in and binge-watching dramas to avoid Jiyong having to deal with the public holiday crowds. They were on a particularly gripping scene when the door opened and Seunghyun stuck his head round it.

“Hey, hon – oh!” he had said, and for a moment Jiyong saw his handsome face turn deeply perturbed. That was _not_ the expression he wanted his brother to wear when he saw him.

“You forgot Jiyong was staying over, didn’t you,” Haewon scolded him.

“No.” Jiyong knew he had; or, more likely, hadn’t taken it in when she’d told him in the first place. Seunghyun was a terrible liar, at least as far as Jiyong was concerned. Haewon was probably easier to fool, he thought gloomily.

“Hi, Tabi,” he said, lolling back in the sofa cushions and giving Seunghyun a laconic smile.

“Hey,” said Seunghyun awkwardly. “I just came to grab some files and a change of clothes.” Haewon sighed.

“Are you staying at the office all night again?! It’s a holiday, honey.”

“I have to go visit a…client,” Seunghyun explained, highly suspiciously. “They can’t travel and they live a way away. So just in case.” He got a smile from his girlfriend for that and a dubious raise of the eyebrows from Jiyong.

“You’re sweet to do so much.” Haewon linked her arm through Jiyong’s. “But we’d like to see you too, one of these days!”

“I know,” said Seunghyun quietly, and emerged from behind the door to come and kiss her. He looked tired and simply gorgeous, and in that second Jiyong’s jealousy came stampeding back, and his deep depression with it. He didn’t blame Haewon – it was impossible to. He blamed Seunghyun, who tousled Jiyong’s rainbow hair quickly before making some more excuses and leaving the apartment in a hurry.

“I do worry about him,” Haewon confided, arm still tucked in Jiyong’s. “This must be a terribly important case; but he never tells me anything about it.” Jiyong frowned, then made an effort to stop because it gave him wrinkles. On the inside, though, he was afraid: if Seunghyun wasn’t neglecting him for Haewon, and he was lying to her too, what in the world could the bastard be doing?

“Trust me,” he told her, “I worry as well.”

 

In the small hours right before dawn Jiyong saw him again. He found he could sleep quite well in the smaller spare bedroom; it reminded him of his old room a bit, and even here Haewon’s aura seemed to work some of its magic. But as he woke with a start, panting, hands twisted in the covers, he was reminded that not even the most comfortable bed could stop the spectre of bad dreams. Only one person could do that.

Jiyong easily found his way to the dark kitchen; he had spent so much time here before, back when Seunghyun had jumped at any chance to see him. He got himself a glass of water and perched on the arm of the sofa waiting to calm down. But before he could he heard the front door.

Seunghyun strode in, stopped, stared at Jiyong in the dim light. He seemed edgy and buzzed. And with the aftershocks of the nightmare still shuddering across his skin the younger man felt galvanised enough to demand some answers.

“Where have you been, Tabi?” he asked in an undertone. “I don’t mean just tonight,” he said, as Seunghyun opened his mouth to lie again. “I mean for months now.”

“Working.”

“Don’t try that on me,” hissed Jiyong, standing up. Seunghyun took a sharp breath, and in the dark Jiyong couldn’t tell if he was angry or alarmed at being caught out. “Are you having an affair?!” His brother gave an unamused laugh.

“Come _on_. You’d be the first to know if I was, don’t you think?”

“Fine,” Jiyong snapped; he could feel himself blushing. “What’re you really doing?”

“Mind your business,” Seunghyun said shortly, stripping off his jacket and running a hand distractedly through his hair. “…Something important,” he relented.

“Important enough to neglect your girlfriend?” Jiyong was unable to keep the hurt out of his voice when he added, “And me?” At that Seunghyun made a strange, exasperated noise and stalked closer. Miserably, Jiyong wondered if they were about to have a full-on argument in the dark, in whispers.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Seunghyun told him sincerely, and Jiyong felt another throb of anger that was really just fear on steroids. “Not now.”

“Oh, really! Haewon doesn’t think so.” Jiyong scowled at him. “In fact, we were having a pretty nice time until you came in and got weird!” Seunghyun made that noise again. “So _why_?” demanded Jiyong, unsteadily.

Before he could blink Seunghyun was leaning over him, one hand gripping his jaw to make him look up; his fingers were trembling. Jiyong went very still, the breath catching in his chest. Seunghyun’s beautiful mouth was an inch from his for the first time in forever, and Jiyong could feel that precarious electric energy all through his body without even touching him. “ _Don’t_ ,” he whispered warningly.

“This is why,” muttered Seunghyun feverishly, and kissed him, the most fleeting and frustrating brush of his lips. “You should _never_ have told me you still wanted me.”

Jiyong caught himself stretching up, his hand reaching for his brother’s tie; Seunghyun’s fingers were splayed across his collarbones now, feeling the race of his pulse. Jiyong let out a tiny sound of desire, and before he could take it back Seunghyun kissed him again, tongue nudging expertly at his mouth to part his lips and make him moan.

“ _Jiyong_ ,” said Seunghyun gruffly, and then his arms were tight around the younger man’s waist and Jiyong could feel how much Seunghyun craved him with every cell in his body. Jiyong kissed him again, harder, the old ecstatic giddiness rising to blot out the memories his dream had forced on him, everything but the pleasure of his brother’s presence. Seunghyun rumbled an endearment into his mouth, and before Jiyong knew it he was losing his balance and being caught safely by the sofa cushions.

Seunghyun followed him down, seeking his embrace frantically; it was as if he felt as desperate as Jiyong to forget something unpleasant. The younger man took his weight with a fierce rush of nostalgia and a sense of security – he had always loved to feel Seunghyun above him, and it had been more than a year since he had let him get this close; since the day Seunghyun announced Haewon as his girlfriend.

Not even that thought could dampen Jiyong’s urgency. Seunghyun’s mouth was on his neck now, hot and wonderful, his large hands sliding possessively along Jiyong’s hips.

“ _Yes, yes, yes_ ,” Jiyong heard himself murmur, and he sounded so delighted but at the same time far too needy after all his brave resolutions about taking care of himself. He opened his legs to encourage Seunghyun closer. His brother gasped his name worshipfully and rocked against him, hard through his suit pants.

Both of them froze. Then, _no_ , Jiyong told himself cruelly, several times before he had enough strength to sink his hands into Seunghyun’s hair and lift the bigger man’s head away from him. This was another of Seunghyun’s weird moods, and Jiyong would regret it if they went any further – he _knew_ it. He loved Seunghyun, god, so terribly, but he no longer thought he could trust his older brother to be the arbiter of what was right. It was a startling realisation; and in that miserable moment Jiyong felt himself grow up just that bit more.

Seunghyun was panting harshly, his breaths in rhythm with Jiyong’s lighter ones.

“Fucking dammit.” He let his head fall to press against Jiyong’s, hurting him. He sounded devastated.

“I know,” said Jiyong bleakly, his body quivering all over from being denied what it wanted.

“…That’s why,” Seunghyun said eventually, his fingers still cupping Jiyong’s fine jaw. With a visible effort he pushed himself away, leaving Jiyong feeling cold and suddenly more isolated than ever. “You’re too dangerous. Especially when I-” He broke off and looked away.

“I’m sorry,” whispered Jiyong. The chill of his brother’s disappointment in him was as physical as the cool of the room. He drew his knees up and wrapped his arms around them. “I’ll go home. I was just…Haewon thought I was lonely,” he confessed, ashamed. Seunghyun shook his head angrily.

“No, stay. If she makes you happy, I’m glad. I’ll just take more care.”

“ _You_ make me happy,” Jiyong blurted out, and immediately regretted it. Seunghyun gave him an agonized glance, then quickly left the room. Jiyong heard him open the door to his and Haewon’s bedroom and go inside, and regretted it even more.

When he woke up later that morning it was as though Seunghyun had never been there at all.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun saw Jiyong once more before his brother began his tour. There was no way he could let him leave without saying goodbye; but after the other night there was no way Seunghyun could be alone with him, either, not after the fever of guilt and pleasure that had ignited in him just by holding the younger man again. He compromised and endured a cosy family dinner – Haewon was in the mood to spoil Jiyong, and had invited their father over too – and it was the most awkward meal he had suffered through since he and Jiyong had made out for the first time all those years ago.

“You’ll take care of yourself, yeah?” he said gruffly, once Jiyong’s car arrived to take him home. He caught a flash of his brother’s black eyes, the first time they had made contact since Seunghyun had metaphorically tried to devour him the other night. Seunghyun felt shame and culpability, so acute that he was sure he had turned pale instead of blushing under Jiyong’s gaze.

Jiyong hugged him in a perfunctory way and gave him another peculiar look. Seunghyun didn’t know if the smaller man would be okay, off on his own for months with no-one to talk to or rely on when his disloyal mind flashed up more traumatic memories. But it couldn’t be any worse than how Seunghyun had messed him about. It would be better, he thought starkly, if his brother fixed _himself_. Seunghyun needed to stop interfering; he _had_ to stop using Jiyong to purge the mixed emotions that were making his mind a turmoil.

He stepped out of Jiyong’s vicinity and watched him embrace Haewon and kiss her cheek before burying his face in her shoulder. They were being awfully affectionate the last couple of days – more stuff that Seunghyun was too busy to find out about. One day he’d ask, he promised himself; some day soon he would have nothing but time for them.

“Good luck,” he heard Haewon say as she pulled Jiyong’s scarf snug. “You can call me any time, remember.”

“Thanks, _noona_.” Jiyong held her hand for a minute, looking oddly shy. “I’ll see you in Singapore, right? Hoang will sort everything out for you.” She kissed him again. Seunghyun tried momentarily to figure out what was so weird about this tableau, then gave up attempting to understand when their father opened the front door and began beckoning Jiyong impatiently.

“Text me!” Seunghyun called, unable to stop himself. Jiyong shot him another unreadable glance.

“Be good,” he said quietly. Then he was gone.

 

Jiyong set out on his world tour with a fierce determination to enjoy it – to throw himself into his art and his fans. He had decided, after that last near-miss with Seunghyun, that from now on he would double his resolution to be strong. Whatever was the matter with his brother, whatever he was hiding from him and Haewon, it meant Seunghyun couldn’t be strong for himself.

It had been a cold, logical decision. He had had enough of feelings, Jiyong told himself cruelly. He would not allow Seunghyun – or anyone – to mess with them again. He would criss-cross the world for months, and by the time he got back Haewon and Seunghyun would be on track again.

He just had to hold himself together in the meantime.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're coming to one of the hardest times for our rash and vengeful Seunghyun (and one of the most fun parts to write cos he gets to be such a drama-mama!).  
> Of course things are difficult for Jiyong too, but I will say that he's gonna have at least a little fun next chapter ;)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun seeks helps from another quarter, and Jiyong gives himself some unconventional therapy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shortish chapter compared to some of the others in this book, but at least Jiyong gets to spend some time being happy!

Seunghyun had known ever since the phone call that Lee was different from the others, and it wasn’t just that he was better protected. It was that he wasn’t afraid of Seunghyun – whereas Seunghyun was most definitely afraid of _him_. He found himself at an impasse, unable to move in any direction: his plan was stalled, he was distracted and barely useful at work, and he couldn’t even mend fences with Jiyong while his brother was overseas. He didn’t know what to do next, and it distressed him more than he could conceal.

The trouble was…the trouble was that Lee had never actually broken the law in any way Gil could find evidence for. Or done anything scandalous enough that anybody remembered. His worthless life was too prosaic for him to owe big money. Seunghyun was coming to realise that he couldn’t deal with him in the same way as the others. And the more he thought about it, the more he thought it _shouldn’t_ be the same. Lee was worse than them, and they’d been about as bad as they could be. Lee deserved…

For a long time Seunghyun couldn’t name it even in his own head, let alone say it out loud to Gil. What he wanted to do to Lee strayed far beyond what any decent man would allow. But as the weeks went by and he thought about the soldier up there with his old unit, enjoying his life while he had tried so thoroughly to wreck Jiyong’s, the louder the solution screamed at him. Lee had to pay, with the same currency Jiyong had paid: with pain and even more pain. If it became more _final_ than that…well, it did.

Seunghyun wasn’t sure whether to think of himself as a coward or just very prudent, but he knew he couldn’t do this himself. And he knew Gil wouldn’t; they had grown close through necessity these past months, and he thought he knew where Gil’s limits lay. Breaking the law to get a lawful outcome was one thing; hurting someone would be another. The man was a PI, not a thug.

Still, Seunghyun needed someone professional. He mulled it over a while longer, worrying Haewon with his introverted mood and fobbing Gil off when he called. It had to be someone who wouldn’t get personal about it, and who wouldn’t ask too many questions. That left him…one option. He didn’t like it, but by now he was feeling impetuous enough not to care. So eventually, through a convoluted string of clandestine introductions and anonymous hints, he got himself a meeting with the Jopok – maybe even the same group that had done for Minjun. And as soon as he did, he knew he had crossed a line from which he might never return.

“What can we do for you, young man?” asked one of the two middle-aged guys sitting in front of Seunghyun. “We gotta reward so much dumb fucking persistence.”

They were right about that. It had taken an age of insistence to get this far up the ladder without Gil to help him, past the hustlers and underlings who swore blind they could solve his problem. Seunghyun knew they were testing him, and stayed smart and implacable until the old client who had introduced him suggested they’d get more out of him if they kicked him upstairs. So here Seunghyun was, in the manager’s office above a rundown sauna. It was a good cover.

“I have a problem,” said Seunghyun. “And just this once I need some help to solve it.” The two men behind the manager’s desk looked him up and down, though Seunghyun knew they had appraised him minutely the second he came in.

“Not money problems,” said one, the one with grey hair and a ponytail. “Far too well-dressed.”

“And with that face he _can’t_ be having trouble with the ladies,” added the other. They looked at him expectantly.

“It’s more of a…personnel problem,” suggested Seunghyun obliquely. They nodded. “Someone…this guy…needs teaching a rather sharp lesson.”

“Ah. And what did this prick do that you need the likes of us to teach it?” Ponytail stared narrowly at Seunghyun. “You look fit and healthy enough to me, why not beat it into him yourself?”

“He’s a soldier. Long-term, still with the Army. He only comes down to Seoul on furlough.”

“That,” said the other, “makes things a bit complicated. Quite apart from this guy himself being a potential pain in the ass to deal with if he’s properly trained… The Army doesn’t take kindly to people picking scraps off the main body; even if he does deserve it.” He jerked his chin at Seunghyun. “I suppose he does?”

“He raped someone I care about,” said Seunghyun bluntly. “Someone who belongs to _me_.” They would understand that concept, he thought. The two older men glanced at each other; Seunghyun guessed something passed between them, but couldn’t tell what.

“…And what is it you want us to do about him?”

“You?” said Seunghyun. He was careful to keep his voice polite and cool. “Nothing, necessarily. I’m looking for someone who dispenses justice professionally.” They both raised an eyebrow. “Nothing messy,” Seunghyun continued. “Just to tidy up a loose end. I was hoping you could recommend someone. For a fee, obviously.”

“Depending on what you want,” offered one of them after a minute, “we might not need to.”

“Well. Perhaps.” Seunghyun leaned back. “But I’m after a strictly one-time deal. For cash, not favours. I’m not looking to form a relationship.” He knew damn well that the Jopok would jump at the chance to get hold of a successful lawyer. It wouldn’t do them much good in his field, but he had no doubt they were dangerous. “I just want an introduction.”

The two men looked at each other again. Seunghyun waited; he would not appear desperate for revenge.

“…Well. One time only? Couple of guys to help you out? We can offer you that ourselves; we don’t condone rapists in this district.” Seunghyun, who had intimate knowledge regarding the human rights issues of immigrant sex workers, was highly sceptical about this. But that didn’t matter right now. Only Jiyong mattered.

“And an absolute severance of connection afterwards?”

Ponytail sighed.

“This isn’t a gangster film. A one-time cash payment will do fine. Fifty million won, and we forget what that pretty face of yours even looks like.” It was a small fortune.

“Thirty,” said Seunghyun immediately, before his morals began beating him over the head with what exactly it was that he was paying for.

“Forty-five.”

“Forty. And I’ll deal with any fallout from the military.”

“Good,” said the other gangster. “Tell us what you have in mind.”

 

* * *

 

 

The day after Jiyong got to Tokyo Seungri arrived too, thoroughly overexcited at the invitation to be GD’s special guest performer for the Japan leg of his tour. Jiyong put him straight into rehearsals and ignored his persistent grumbling about slavedrivers; Seungri was a cheeky brat who acted out to get attention, but Jiyong was glad he was here.

And a little bit nervous. He had been waiting for this.

Once the rehearsal was done Jiyong took his musicians out to dinner with Seungri and some of his Japanese friends. He put his junior next to him and proceeded to spoil him and bully him until Seungri looked tipsy and blissful. Jiyong gathered his courage.

“Come up and have a drink,” he suggested to the younger man when they got back to the hotel.

“Sure!” Seungri slung an arm around his neck and let himself be led up to the top floor.

“It _is_ good to see you, Panda,” said Jiyong as he let Seungri into his suite. He meant it, too; he had always been fond of the younger man, whose old combination of cheekiness and admiration hadn’t changed in all the years they’d known each other. Seungri followed him in, grinning broadly.

“This month’s gonna be fun,” he assured Jiyong. “So, we drinking or what?”

“I’m just gonna take a quick shower.” Jiyong gave him an ingenuous smile. “Make yourself at home.” Seungri saluted and headed for the room service menu as Jiyong took himself off to the bathroom.

He stood under the hissing water and wondered if he could really do this. It was so hard to picture himself with anyone who wasn’t Seunghyun – other than those terrible images he was trying so hard to forget. But he had to start, he told himself firmly; Seunghyun wasn’t his lover anymore, and he’d better get used to it. He couldn’t stay single and celibate forever – he still had a libido, dammit – so he ought to start learning how to be with another person. He’d just work up to it slowly.

Seungri was the perfect candidate for this, Jiyong had decided after he’d invited him to perform in Japan. His junior was affectionate and adventurous, and there had always been a certain amount of flirtation between them. Jiyong was sure that if he pushed it they could go beyond that. Of course Seungri was a total player, and very unlikely to want an inconvenient relationship, however much he liked Jiyong. The older man wasn’t ready for any sort of emotional entanglement anyway – he wasn’t sure he’d ever be – but he could work on the physical aspect. And his Panda was _fun_.

Jiyong dried off, moisturised himself, then wrapped a towel round his slim hips and stepped quietly out of the bathroom. Seungri looked very much at home: he was lounging on the big bed, snacks and a bunch of liquor on the table.

“Getting comfy, I see,” chided Jiyong playfully. Seungri looked up at his damp, half-naked senior with his mouth open. Jiyong saw his eyes gleam: admiring, sure, and opportunistic too. This was going to be easy, thought Jiyong. He padded nonchalantly across to the bed, sat down with an innocent smile, and proceeded to let Seungri seduce him.

The younger man began by giving him plenty of drinks – classic start – plus quite a few for himself. Jiyong guessed it must take some courage to make a move on your male colleague, even for a renowned playboy like Seungri. Jiyong didn’t mind that; he needed a bit of help himself. But not so much – Seungri was his friend, and he was a good-looking guy even if he was miles away from the utter perfection that was Seunghyun. All in all Jiyong was rather sweet on him.

“How many tattoos you got now, _hyung_?” asked Seungri, gaze sweeping irresistibly from Jiyong’s face down his torso. Jiyong casually leaned a little too close and saw the younger man’s eyes widen.

“Haven’t counted.”

“I could count for you,” Seungri suggested. “Joke,” he added quickly. Jiyong grinned and took another swig of sake. He thought his junior might need a bit of a push.

“You like my new bling?” he asked, raising his chin to let Seungri get a look at the gold Cartier chain round his neck. Seungri hooked one finger through it, looking determined to take a risk, and drew Jiyong nearer.

“…It’s real pretty.” It sounded like he was holding his breath, and his gaze was on Jiyong’s face. The older man licked his lips; this was going to _happen_. He felt a clench of nervousness in his stomach, then physically jumped as Seungri’s fingers brushed his skin there.

“ _Hyung_ …” said Seungri in a low voice, a cautious smile playing at the edges of his mouth, and Jiyong felt his fingers drag down to tug at the edge of the towel. He wanted this, he really did, and Seungri looked _starstruck_ ; but at the same time he hadn’t thought he would be this daunted at the feeling of someone else’s touch on his skin. Perhaps it would help if…

He took Seungri’s face in both hands and kissed him.

“ _Wow_ ,” murmured the younger man, once Jiyong had gently pulled back. He took a deep breath. Then he grabbed Jiyong by the nape of the neck and kissed him again, momentary shyness evaporating, his tongue parting Jiyong’s lips enthusiastically while his free hand slid down his back and resumed tugging at the towel until Jiyong was naked. “Fucking hell,” said Seungri, drawing back to get a look at his face and then kiss his throat. “I am, like, so hard for you already…!”

“I’m not looking for anything serious.” Jiyong heard the breathlessness in his own voice and caught Seungri’s excited gulp. “Just a fling!”

“Suits me,” said Seungri eagerly, and the next thing Jiyong knew he was on his back with his junior leaning over him. “I’ve already got…” Seungri paused to count. “…Three…sort of girlfriends?”

 Jiyong laughed and tugged him down to kiss him again. He was apprehensive for a moment at the feeling of weight; he had always felt so safe with Seunghyun on top of him, but any other man… No. This was okay, he told himself. Seungri was like a big curious puppy, nothing threatening about him at all.

“You alright?” asked Seungri, his hands tracing Jiyong’s body hungrily. “Christ, you’re good-looking! I didn’t think we’d ever…I mean I didn’t know you were…” Jiyong nodded, arms around his neck.

“Apparently I am.”

“Can I blow you?” was the next question. The older man chuckled.

“Sure.” Seungri grabbed his ass and squeezed happily.

“Awesome.”

“Mmm…you know how?” Jiyong pressed his lips together as Seungri’s mouth closed on his nipple.

“Nope.”

“…I’ll show you,” said Jiyong, laughing again. This was good. Being in control.

He wriggled out from under his junior and slid off the bed to kneel in front of him. He looked up. Seungri was sitting there staring down at him like all his birthdays had come at once. The younger man dragged his sweater and shirt over his head while Jiyong swiftly unbuttoned his pants for him.

“ _You_ know how?” demanded Seungri in excitement, one hand caressing Jiyong’s platinum blonde hair. Jiyong ran his fingers up the other man’s thighs; he could feel Seungri’s muscles tense in anticipation.

“Oh, yes.” Jiyong smiled, no innocent expression anymore but the wicked curl of his lips that used to drive his brother crazy. He insinuated himself between Seungri’s knees and kissed his bare stomach. Seungri gasped happily when Jiyong’s hand slid into his pants. To his gratification Jiyong found he was indeed hard.

“Fuck, _hyung_!” Seungri wriggled his remaining clothing further down his hips to let Jiyong get a better grip on his cock. “ _Please_ do me!” Jiyong laughed again; Seungri was hardly suave, but his enthusiasm was flattering. So he bent his head, tipped him a wink, and proceeded to give him a comprehensive lesson.

Jiyong paused once Seungri was groaning in delight and pulling at his hair. He sat back on his heels. Seungri was pink in the face and breathing fast, looking at him like he’d never met him before. Jiyong opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Seungri leaned down and kissed him in amazement.

“All right,” said Jiyong, his own voice a little unsteady. “Now you try it!”

“Hell yes,” answered Seungri without a pause. “Get on the bed.” He pulled Jiyong up and they exchanged places. “Tell me what you like.”

“I’m smaller than you.” Jiyong slid his fingers through Seungri’s black hair; they were shaking a bit, but he thought he had it under control. “So it oughta be easier for you.”

“…You’re pretty fucking perfect, _hyung_ ,” breathed Seungri, his hands moving in an exploratory sweep up Jiyong’s thighs. The older man wiggled, then spread his legs further, tipping back his blonde head with a sigh. He felt Seungri’s breath warm on the skin below his navel, and the next thing he knew he was suppressing a moan as his junior’s mouth closed over his semi-erect cock. It had been way too long!

“Use your hands too,” he suggested unsteadily. It was nothing like Seunghyun, nothing, but he knew he couldn’t expect that; and it _was_ nice to feel Seungri’s excitement and determination to try out as many different things as possible. Jiyong directed him as best he could, staring down at him to try and banish the image of his brother from his mind. He didn’t think Seungri would be able to make him come like this, but the bigger man was tenacious, doing everything he could think of within his limited experience to please Jiyong.

At last Jiyong felt it approaching; he moaned and bit his lip, and then Seungri was coughing as he came.

“Sorry, sorry…!” said Jiyong breathlessly, his hand pulling at Seungri’s hair without thinking about it. “You don’t have to…” Seungri slapped him teasingly on the leg and swallowed, gasping for breath.

“I wanna try everything,” he said stubbornly. “And it’s _you_.” He climbed up and eased Jiyong back on the bed, staring at him rapturously. “You…incredible babe!”

“You’re adorable.” Jiyong stretched up and kissed him.

“ _Wow_ ,” said Seungri, for the second time. Jiyong ran his palms up the younger man’s sides, along the toned muscles of his arms. He felt pretty good, safe and relaxed.

“…You wanna fuck me?” he asked in a low voice. It had to be done sometime; and besides, he _wanted_ to.

“Oh my god.” Seungri cupped his cheek. “Are you kidding, of course I do! Teach me.”

“Have you done it like this with a woman?” inquired Jiyong. Seungri’s reputation had him down as a bit of a pervert, so he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Couple of times.” The younger man couldn’t seem to stop caressing him, tracing the edges of his tattoos. Jiyong stroked Seungri’s jaw fondly.

“It’s basically the same. There’re a few extra things, but…well, we won’t worry about those right now.”

“Whatever you say, Boss.” Jiyong directed him to the bedside table where he’d stashed lube and condoms.

“…Be gentle,” he said softly, another pang of nerves hitting him as Seungri pushed a pillow beneath his hips and spread his legs. Jiyong couldn’t tell if his nerves stemmed from fear or from guilt; the spectre of his brother was very difficult to banish. But if Seunghyun could do it, so could he.

“I’ll be whatever you want,” said Seungri, and pushed one slippery finger into him. “Just say the word… Man, you’re tight!”

“…It has been sort of a while,” Jiyong acknowledged, gasping as Seungri added another digit. “Go slowly, huh? Yeah. Just…fuck me like that for a bit.”

“You’re _so hot_ when you talk dirty,” Seungri informed him in delight, and obeyed. Jiyong smiled and continued giving instructions, sometimes taking his wrist to show him. He wasn’t concerned, at the moment, with finding that sweet spot, just with helping Seungri open him up properly. Still, it felt good, and Jiyong thought with pleasure that he might get hard again at this rate. He glanced down between Seungri’s legs.

“One more finger,” he said. Repetitive patience had never been one of the younger man’s strong suits, but he nodded.

“Does it hurt?” he demanded, catching Jiyong’s change of expression. Jiyong shook his head, leaned up and kissed him.

“…It’s good.” Seungri grinned. “Just go careful.”

Once his beautiful senior was lying there moaning happily to himself, Seungri withdrew his fingers and slid the condom on. Jiyong wasn’t taking any chances; he’d been damn lucky the last time, and Seungri had been around the block. The younger man didn’t complain, and quite right too.

“Can you get on your knees?” asked Seungri. He sounded extremely excited, and Jiyong hoped he’d be able to last. Jiyong obligingly turned round, looking back as Seungri leaned over him to kiss him again. He was quite happy with this position: it felt less intimate, and he wasn’t ready for that yet. Seungri’s hands glided confidently down his waist and over his ass. “You know how goddamn fine you are?” he breathed in admiration.

“…I’ve been told,” said Jiyong casually, and heard him laugh. “You can have me now, Panda, I want you to. Just…take care with me. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Seungri agreed, sounding ridiculously eager. Jiyong felt lips hot on the back of his neck, and the next moment Seungri had nudged his legs apart and was slowly pressing into him. Jiyong shivered, then told himself to calm down. This man wouldn’t hurt him – this was going to feel good. He whimpered at the familiar sensation that was nevertheless so distinct from his brother, and Seungri gasped excitedly at the sound.

Seungri fucked him in a way that felt completely different from Seunghyun. Jiyong was still too anxious to be able to lose himself in it, but he found he was enjoying it all the same. The younger man was obviously holding back out of consideration for him; it was rather touching. He liked talking as well, much more than Seunghyun, who was always a bit bashful about saying anything that sounded pornographic. Seungri had no such worries, and Jiyong was glad the walls were soundproofed. Still, his junior’s hands and lips and cock felt good.

Near the end Seungri slowed right down, pushing into him deeply and reaching round to stroke him. Jiyong let out a pleasurable groan.

“…You come first,” panted Seungri in his ear. “I’ve got manners…!” Jiyong laughed breathlessly and added his own hand to help out. Seungri bit his earlobe sharply enough to make him exclaim, and then Jiyong was coming, the first time with another person in so long he couldn’t even remember. Seungri made an admiring noise, then straightened up and got on with having his own good time; when he orgasmed his hands were tight enough to leave bruises, but Jiyong didn’t mind. He felt very pleased with himself.

“…Are you okay, _hyung_?” came Seungri’s voice. He turned Jiyong over to look down at his face. “I didn’t hurt you?” Jiyong shook his head. “Your ass is, like… _amazing_ ,” said Seungri, without finesse, and Jiyong laughed again.

“Thank you, Panda.”

“You want another shower?” asked Seungri, looking thrilled all over again at the prospect of getting the smaller man wet and soapy.

“Sure.” Seungri grinned, got off the bed, and picked Jiyong up in his arms like a princess. “Man, you’re heavier than I thought!”

“Thanks,” said Jiyong drily. “Or maybe I’m so good a lay you’ve lost the use of your legs!”

“That too,” said Seungri, and carried him off to the bathroom.

Jiyong sent him away after that, with promises that they could do it again. They had a morning soundcheck, he pointed out, and he needed his beauty sleep.

“No you don’t,” said Seungri gallantly, and kissed him until Jiyong opened the door himself and pushed him out bodily into the hallway.

Jiyong lay on his back in bed and tried to get used to the idea of having shared his body with someone again. He was feeling pretty okay about it – there was no complexity about Seungri, that was his major charm. Jiyong thought he would be able to cope. Then Seunghyun messaged him.

_Hope you’re doing okay and having fun. I miss you._

The guilt hit him like a ton of bricks. Jiyong clapped one hand over his mouth and sternly told his eyes to dry up; he would _not_ feel bad about this! But he didn’t sleep for a long time.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong got himself together and spent the next three weeks giving Seungri a crash course in pleasing a man. He could say, without being dishonest, that he enjoyed it despite the illogical feeling of guilt. He showed him all the different ways he knew to get off; Seungri’s appetite for trying new stuff was voracious. That was nice, although Jiyong had to constantly rein him in.

He taught Seungri how to make him come with just his fingers, taking his wrist and guiding him to the exact spot that would make him lose the plot.

“Holy shit,” said Seungri, as Jiyong tightened around him and clung to the edge of the bath, gasping. “What the hell am I doing to you, Jiyong?!”

“…That’s _so good_ ,” Jiyong whimpered through gritted teeth. “Oh my god, you have no idea…!”

“Do it to me!” Seungri invited, sounding curious and half amazed. He turned Jiyong round in the hot water and kissed him hungrily.

“Are you sure…?” managed the older man, once he had got his breath back. “A lot of guys don’t like the idea…”

“I’m not like a lot of guys,” pointed out Seungri, winking.

“No, you’re not, you little pervert.” Seungri just grinned wider and changed places.

Jiyong showed him exactly what he was talking about – really, you had to feel it to believe it – and eventually let his Panda persuade him into fucking him. It was fun to teach someone as eager and fearless as Seungri; not to mention the return he got on his investment once his junior had picked up enough skills to satisfy him.

Of course, Seungri was a kinky bastard; Jiyong knew that from enough kiss-and-tell stories in the tabloids and was learning a thing or two himself. He had to keep Seungri on a tight leash – sometimes literally.

“Can I tie you up?” asked Seungri blithely, the night they arrived in Osaka.

“No,” replied Jiyong quickly, repressing a shudder. He would never let that happen to him again. Perhaps he would have allowed Seunghyun to do it, but it was too late for such thoughts now. He gripped Seungri by the jaw and gave him G-Dragon’s wicked smile. “I don’t mind tying _you_ up, though.”

“Cool!”

Seungri even dragged him out to a love hotel, both of them disguised in hoodies and face masks.

“It has mirrors on the ceiling, _hyung_ ,” pointed out Seungri in delight. “And – whoa, so much stuff!”

“Deviant.” Jiyong let the younger man strip him then pull him into his arms and kiss him. Seungri got Jiyong to go on top, and Jiyong just knew the narcissistic brat was looking at himself in the mirror the whole time. He slapped him lightly in the face to get his attention back, and discovered Seungri _really_ liked that. Later Seungri introduced him to the room service menu – short on champagne, long on sex toys. Jiyong felt pretty enlightened and thoroughly exhausted by the time they left.

He couldn’t help fantasising about having Seunghyun here with him, Seunghyun doing all these debauched and delicious things with him. But his brother _wasn’t_ there, and still Jiyong persisted. By the end of the Japanese leg of his tour he was quite worn out. He sent Seungri back to Seoul very full of himself and determined to try it all out on the first cute guy to catch his eye. Jiyong had a few worries; he hoped things would be okay between them later, and that Seungri would manage to quit staring at his ass whenever they were in the same room. Still, he thought he had learned that one day he would be able to sustain a physical relationship with another man; even be affectionate towards one. That was a big step forward. Surely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, GTOP is my fave pairing for sure - no question about it, their looks, voices, and personalities complement each other perfectly! But Nyongtory was my first BB pairing (thanks to all the fanservice!), and Seungri is too funny and adorable; I had to work a bit of them in somewhere XD
> 
> Next chapter things get dark(er). Again...


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things come to a head for Seunghyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a rather Jiyong-less chapter. Apologies! But he'll be back soon, and you know he's having fun in the meantime ;)

Seunghyun synched his phone with the car stereo and blasted vintage Rage Against the Machine all the way up to the little town at the foot of the mountains. He’d told Haewon he was going camping with Daesung, and to tell the truth he wished he was. But he had promised his new partners he’d try to keep the Army from sticking its nose into their business with Lee; and if he was to have a hope in hell of achieving that he’d need to pave the way.

He wasn’t exactly looking forward to this meeting, and was driving the big Mercedes via the scenic route while he procrastinated. He stopped for late lunch, and then again at a pretty, isolated church that blinked into view as he crested a hill fifty miles from his destination. Seunghyun hadn’t been to church for a long time, not since he had first been introduced to Haewon – he always found an excuse to get out of it. The last time he had _really_ prayed was after Jiyong got attacked: first to beg that his brother would be okay, and later to let God know how fucking disgusted he was at what He’d let happen. No-one had answered him, of course. After that Seunghyun left worship well alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in God anymore; he just regarded them as having fallen out, and wasn’t sure how they could ever make up.

Now Seunghyun knelt in one of the pews and had a frank, one-sided talk with whatever might be listening. He wasn’t asking for permission or even confirmation that he was doing the right thing. Perhaps it was a test, to see if anything would send him a sign that he should stop. There was no sign, only the pale, serene afternoon light casting its dusty rays on Seunghyun’s clasped hands. So he got up, brushed off his jeans, and drove on towards the town.

He arrived as the winter evening smoothed its clear way into night. The air here was good, you could actually see the constellations – it was the one thing Seunghyun had liked about night watch. He parked round the corner from the closed supermarket and slowly took the ten-minute stroll down the street to his goal. He was aware that he was still killing time.

There were only two bars at this end of town, as far as Seunghyun remembered. The one used by the locals was simply called ‘Bar’ in English – a good indicator of how basic this place really was – while the other, further towards the mountains, didn’t even have a name. Or if it did, Seunghyun had no recollection of it; the sign had fallen off years ago. This was the hangout frequented by soldiers from the base when they came down for time off. Seeing its steeply peaked roof silhouetted against the indigo sky, Seunghyun experienced an unsettling burst of nostalgia and distaste; he remembered spending evenings here with his troop when he wasn’t busy studying. Those had always been pleasant memories, but no longer – yet another thing Lee and his accomplices had stolen from him.

Seunghyun stood outside, jacket pulled tight around him against the wind that came down from the mountain. He was almost scared to go in; once he did he would see those old scenes even more vividly, the warm, no-frills interior, himself with Lee and the others arm-wrestling to decide who would drive them back to base. Seunghyun didn’t want to remember that stuff. He set his jaw and told himself not to be a coward: how much worse must the curse of memory be for Jiyong? If his brother could bear it, so could he. He pushed open the door, ducked his head and stepped inside.

There were a few off-duty men installed already, sipping beers and eating the small range of fried food the bar owner made on the grill at weekends. They all glanced up at Seunghyun, who had purposely worn his most unremarkable clothes – he couldn’t do much about his memorable face, but he at least had a hat on – then ignored him.

“Whiskey, please,” said Seunghyun, taking a seat in the corner. He wouldn’t drive home tonight, it was too far. The only real place to stay was the bed and breakfast he had been at the night he’d put himself in a coma, and he didn’t want those memories any more than he wanted these; so he’d found the one solitary Air BnB room and booked it.

He sat and waited patiently, nursing his drink. It was the same barman as when he’d been here as a recruit, he was sure, but the man must have seen so many hundreds of men in uniform there was no chance he’d remember Seunghyun. More than an hour after he’d arrived the door opened again to admit a few more off-duty soldiers, and right on schedule Seunghyun’s target walked in.

“Evening,” said Kim to the bartender, peeling off his coat and accepting a beer on the house. It didn’t surprise Seunghyun that the Captain was well-liked in the town; everyone liked him. So did Seunghyun, and that was why he was here. He stood up.

“Sir,” he said quietly. Kim turned his head, blinked a bit to adjust to the dimness, then cracked a slow smile that was not only astonished but genuinely pleased.

“Well, well, Sergeant!” he greeted Seunghyun – technically correct, Kim had been the one to promote Seunghyun to Red Cap before he’d finished his service – and came over to join him. “What an unexpected sight you are.” Seunghyun shook his hand, remembering how deeply he had respected this man. It made him even more reluctant to do what he was about to do. Kim got him another drink and sat down with him, stretching out his legs with a sigh. He was greyer than before, Seunghyun noted, and moved his neck a little stiffly.

“It’s good to see you, Sir,” Seunghyun told him. Kim gave him a nod.

“Up here for a visit, are you?”

“Yes,” said Seunghyun truthfully. He didn’t mention that his old officer was the only one he had come to see. “Glad I ran into you. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“I remember most everyone.” Kim took a thirsty gulp. “Even the unremarkable guys, and you were never one of those. Quite apart from that face of yours, you were one of the brightest kids I ever had in this unit.” If Seunghyun hadn’t been so nervous he would have beamed with pleasure; being complimented by Kim was almost like being praised by his father. “You did become a lawyer in the end, didn’t you.”

“Yes.”

“Human rights, isn’t it?” asked Kim. Seunghyun affirmed this, and he smiled. “Yeah, that was it. Excellent stuff. I remember…” He trailed off thoughtfully.

“My brother told you, didn’t he,” Seunghyun said. “When he was up here.”

“Always talking about you, that boy was.” Kim gave a profound sigh and stared awkwardly at the table for a moment before meeting Seunghyun’s eyes. “It’s been that long since I’ve seen you. Since that day.”

“I know.” Seunghyun liked that he wasn’t completely evading the sensitive topic of their last meeting. “I didn’t think I’d ever come up here again. I’ve been done with the Army for a long time, Sir. Both of us have.”

“Then…I gather this isn’t a social visit,” Kim observed astutely. He sat up a bit straighter; not tense, but transitioning from relaxation to poise. Seunghyun could do with some of that right now.

“Not exactly.” Seunghyun set his jaw. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Me?”

“You’re the only officer I’d trust to answer it.” That was the truth.

Kim was beginning to look…not exactly wary, but puzzled. Seunghyun remembered how uncomfortable the man had been when he had demanded information after Jiyong’s attack, and how vaguely he had answered. He believed it wasn’t all Kim’s fault – that he must have been under tremendous pressure from his superiors to toe the official line. Now Seunghyun was giving him one more chance to do the right thing. He hoped to God Kim would take it.

“All right,” the Captain said eventually. “Go ahead, son.”

“The question is,” said Seunghyun, taking a sip of his drink to defuse the atmosphere, “how much do you care about your men?”

“They’re my number one care,” replied Kim. That was honest enough, thought Seunghyun.

“I don’t just mean the soldiers in your unit now.” The Captain looked at him. “I mean the boys who were your responsibility in the past; and the ones who’ll be in your care in the future.”

“…All of them,” said Kim deliberately, after a pause.

“All right.” Seunghyun set his glass down and fixed his gaze on his old officer. “Then my second question is: how much do you care about justice?” A longer pause.

“That depends on what you mean,” said Kim slowly.

“You know what I mean.” Seunghyun heard his voice go low and tight, hinting at the banked and ill-controlled fury that would be his constant companion until every one of Jiyong’s attackers had paid. Kim stared back at him grimly.

“…Yes.”

“Do you care about what happened to my brother?” asked Seunghyun in an undertone, now he was sure that the older officer understood him. “Not as the unit spokesman,” he clarified, one finger raised in warning. “Not as the subordinate of a bunch of Army PR men who think rape is something so embarrassing it should just…disappear. As _you_.”

“Yeah,” Kim said, just as quietly, as if it was shameful to admit it. “I care. But it’s been a very long time.”

“I’m not asking you to do anything,” Seunghyun told him, carefully oblique again. “But…imagine my brother remembered something. Someone. And a bit later, say a guy in your unit gets in some trouble that’s entirely his own fault…”

“Legal trouble?”

“Some kind of trouble,” agreed Seunghyun. “Would you make a fuss if the police came asking questions about him? Or would you help the Army understand that he deserves what’s coming to him?”

“…That’s quite a thing to ask. You know the military tries to protect its own.” Kim had gone pale under his windburn, but he sounded as steady as ever.

“I know,” said Seunghyun. “But it didn’t protect Jiyong.” He hesitated; he was sorry to have to do this to the man. Seunghyun had respected him right up to the point at which the assault investigation on Jiyong had been dropped. He wanted to respect him again. “You always liked me, Sir,” he continued. “And I’m guessing from now on you won’t very much.” Kim watched him without comment. “But you always told me I could make something of myself,” Seunghyun reminded him. He looked him in the eye. “Well, this is what I’ve made. I’ll do anything for my family. Anything that’s _right_. And this is right.”

Kim nodded slowly. Seunghyun couldn’t tell if it was a nod of agreement or just to show he had heard what Seunghyun was saying. Well, he had done what he could. Before the older man could voice any more thoughts Seunghyun downed the last of his drink, snapped his erstwhile officer a genuine salute, and left the bar.

He would take the next step with or without Kim’s silence. He couldn’t stop now.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun hadn’t had any more contact with Lee since that doubtless ill-advised phone call, but he was thinking of him more than ever; Seunghyun would go so far as to say that thoughts of him had eclipsed everything else. Lee would be flattered to hear that, the bastard. Seunghyun knew everything about him now: where his relatives lived, where he would probably stay when he was on furlough, what he liked to do and with whom. It was an uninspiring list, sure, but sadly it wasn’t actually criminal like Minjun’s or Mun’s had been.

“The guy’s either really smart about covering his tracks,” said Gil wearily, “or he actually hasn’t done anything we can use on him.” Seunghyun had kept Gil’s agency working for him, just in case they did turn anything up. He needed to know Lee’s routine in any case. Mostly, though, it was to stop Gil getting suspicious. “As far as I can see the only weapon you’ve got is Jiyong and what he knows.”

“There’s no way I’m getting my brother involved in this again.” Gil slumped back against the bench on the subway platform.

“Then I gotta say, I really don’t see where we go from here.”

“Me neither,” said Seunghyun. He glowered at the empty track in front of them. “So…I’m going to call a hiatus. We can’t do anything with what we’ve got, and it’s wearing both of us out. You must have a plateload of other jobs.”

“No lie there.” There were sleepy shadows under the PI’s eyes every time they met.

“All right. Then we take a break. I’ll try and talk to some more people from the unit when I can. Let’s just bide our time.”

“You’re the boss.” Gil was looking at him with a quizzical expression.

“Not from today,” Seunghyun told him gloomily. “Let me know the final amount and I’ll send it over. I’ll contact you again if anything happens.” The older man was still watching him. “Okay?” said Seunghyun.

“You’re really going to let this go.”

“Just for now. We can’t change anything.” Seunghyun shrugged.

“It’s…unlike you,” Gil opined. “I’ve known you a while now. I’ve seen you change. It’s hard to credit that the guy who’d let me commit several felonies to get Mun the cruellest punishment possible is gonna walk away from Lee. Especially with him being the ringleader.”

“I know,” said Seunghyun. “Look, I’ve got this far by being fucking _angry_ ; it’s got me past a lot of stuff I’d never have forgiven myself for in the past: the blackmail, the suicide, everything.” He saw Gil nod; not judgementally, but in acknowledgement. “But that’s not gonna work this time. I’ve got to go back: cool down and use my brain like I was trained to do. I’m not walking away, I’m exercising some prudence. It’s the only way I’ll catch him.”

“…If you’re sure,” Gil said eventually. Seunghyun shook his hand. The PI gave him another philosophical look, but patted him on the shoulder and caught the next train that came along.

Seunghyun tipped his head back and breathed out slowly. When had he become such a good liar? At any rate, it had worked: he had cut Gil free, and with it another bit of his moral restraint. Now Seunghyun could do what had to be done.

 

* * *

 

 

It was almost relaxing, working with the Jopok, so long as you didn’t think too hard about it. There was no need to pretend that Seunghyun had anything but the worst intentions for Lee. He felt that by now he had drifted far enough from the person he had been when this all began. He was ready now. Probably. Time to find out.

The next time Lee came down the mountain to spend his off days in Seoul, Seunghyun had him followed by some of his new partners’ men; they were just as good as Gil, and blended in perfectly at the dives Lee chose to hang out in. Near the end of that visit, after another long talk with Ponytail, Seunghyun began to tail him himself, silently thanking Gil for all the tricks he’d learned along the way. And eventually he let Lee see him.

Not a confrontation. No, gradually, innocuously, here and there: a glimpse of Seunghyun on a subway platform, a brief flash of eye contact through the window of a coin laundry. Seunghyun let this happen the whole of the second day; it was quite hard work and nerve-wracking, but he was enjoying watching Lee try not to freak out – trying to figure out if he had really seen Seunghyun at all.

But Seunghyun wasn’t on the man’s tail simply to ruin his holiday.

It was late, almost late enough to be early morning, and Seunghyun knew he would be starting to flag were it not for the adrenaline buzzing through his system. He had last let his target spot him two hours ago in the crowd milling outside an intersection of bar-lined streets, and now Lee was holed up in a joint on the edge of Cheonho that was almost certainly a pickup spot for working girls. Seunghyun waited in the small Chinese restaurant on the second floor of the building, biding his time and drinking soup until Lee emerged again. He was getting edgy: it was almost time to begin.

Staring down fixedly at the wooden overhang with its striped barber pole at the front of the shop below, Seunghyun at last spotted the soldier’s shaved head and big shoulders emerge. He stiffened as Lee glanced around, ducking back from the window when he turned in Seunghyun’s direction. As he threw down the money to pay for his soup he felt his pulse start to hammer again. He was glad he had eaten something – the stalker game was wearing him out.

Seunghyun hurried down the stairs and stepped out cautiously into the neon-lit street; it was beginning to rain and the colours all blurred together. He peered along it in both directions, expecting to see Lee’s form amid the drunken crowd. He was nowhere – ah, no; Seunghyun caught sight of a big silhouette heading down to the red-light district. That figured, and was handily in pretty much the direction Seunghyun wanted him to go. If he ducked down this side-street and cut through, Seunghyun thought he could catch up.

He stepped into the alley. It was narrow enough that it blocked most of the rain. As he began to trot down it the light from the main street suddenly cut off. Seunghyun turned.

“Hey, kid.” Lee was standing in the entrance. “Didn’t ya want to say hi?”

Seunghyun didn’t stop to think – he spun on his heel and ran. Holy fucking hell, he’d spotted the wrong guy, and here was Lee right in front of him. It was too early for this, wasn’t it?! Seunghyun risked a glance at his watch, the heavy sound of footsteps in his ears. Yes, early, but maybe it would be okay if the guy wasn’t too fast; Lee had been drinking further afield than he had anticipated. Seunghyun knew where he needed to lead him now: a mile, perhaps, with lots of steps and turns, all too easy to get lost. Lee sounded further away. Did he dare look and find out how far?

Seunghyun took a right, then a sharp left and up some stairs, and slowed to a walk when he could no longer hear the soldier behind him. The hair on his arms was standing up, a patent danger signal, but he had to pace himself. Lee had to believe he had outsmarted Seunghyun.

“Come on, then,” whispered Seunghyun to himself, and crept off down another alley.

It was hard to stay calm and let Lee follow him; to let him think he had turned the tables on Seunghyun. He had no thought of backing out – but he couldn’t deny his body was getting scared. He could only hope someone was keeping an eye on him.

He almost lost it when he rounded a corner and made visual contact for the second time – Lee appearing from a doorway and moving right for him. Seunghyun was running again now, was sure he could hear heavy footsteps closing behind him. He sped up – he wasn’t anywhere near where he wanted to be yet! He didn’t want to think about how badly Lee might hurt him if he caught him before he was ready.

But Lee kept getting closer, and closer, far faster than Seunghyun remembered him being, until at last Seunghyun was exhausted and dripping with sweat and rain. He stumbled into an old building on his left, past a shut-down grocer’s store on the ground floor and up several dark flights of stairs. He couldn’t see Lee but he could hear him, the echo of his boots on concrete. Seunghyun backed quietly along the corridor, one eye on the stairwell, trying each door as he went. Just as he was about to freak out, one of them opened under his hand.

He slipped inside and shut it ever so softly; the metal still made it clang. The interior was almost totally dark, just a faint orange glow from around the broken blinds. Seunghyun took a deep breath and waited. A minute passed, which was a fucking long time to be hiding when you got right down to it. Seunghyun grimaced, and was about to conclude he had fucked this up when the door opened and closed. He stopped breathing altogether. Then Lee hit the light switch and a bulb flickered on. Seunghyun saw there was one room, one door, and the two of them. That was it.

“Got you.” He gave Seunghyun a smile, and stepped forward. Without meaning to the younger man stepped back. “Here we are, you son of a bitch. No way out.”

“What do you want?” gasped Seunghyun, panting. Beneath his distressed exterior he was watching Lee carefully; but the distress wasn’t all faked.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Lee exclaimed, looking pretty out of breath himself. But he was still a soldier on active duty; Seunghyun heard his breathing start to slow. Lee’s expression was an ugly mixture of fury and anticipation. “You’ve been following me all damn day!”

“Have I?” The bigger man leaned forward, and Seunghyun prudently backed up another step. His hatred for Lee now they were finally face to face again was shocking even to him.

“Don’t bullshit me,” said Lee, his eyes gleaming angrily. “I’ve been seein’ that face of yours everywhere. Hasn’t changed a bit. But _you’ve_ turned nasty, boy.”

“You’re _surprised_?” spat Seunghyun without thinking about it.

“Not really.” Lee smiled at him. “Not now I’ve seen your handiwork. Smart little fucker, aren’t you.” Seunghyun didn’t take the trouble to look triumphant; he was far too nervous. How much time had passed? How many more minutes would he have to stay trapped in this small room keeping his prey where he wanted him? “I didn’t give a shit about the other two,” Lee continued, “but Minjun was my buddy.”

“He didn’t seem too worried about throwing _you_ under the bus,” Seunghyun informed him.

“You really are nasty.” Lee was staring at him avidly. “What I wanna know is: what the hell were you plannin’ to do with _me_ , stalking me all over town?”

“Hurt you,” said Seunghyun truthfully. “Make you pay.”

“Well that fuckin’ backfired, didn’t it? Reckon _I’m_ the one getting payback now.”

“That’s what you think,” burst out Seunghyun, not bothering to conceal his absolute loathing. He was doing just what he needed to: keeping Lee’s attention fixed only on him. The way Lee was looking at him, though, was unnerving him in a more complicated way than plain fear of a beating. His gaze was too intense.

“…What?” managed Seunghyun unwillingly, because he needed to say _something_.

“You’re still fuckin’ beautiful,” Lee told him tipsily, and there was more depth of feeling in his hateful voice than Seunghyun ever wanted to hear. “Ain’t that a thing. And now I’ve got you on your own I can see this goin’ two ways, my pretty boy: I could kick your ass or I could not. I oughta, for trying to put the frights on me with your film noir bullshit.” He took another step forward; Seunghyun was carefully calculating whether he should let him get any closer. “But if your tongue is _very_ clever you might persuade me otherwise.”

Seunghyun experienced a physical recoil of revulsion at the idea of it; at the knowledge this monster still wanted him, in spite of what Seunghyun had done to the others. Knowing that everything he wanted to inflict on Seunghyun he had done to Jiyong instead. He pushed his bile back down. Just a few minutes more, surely…

“…What if I did?” he asked, not trying to hide his perturbation. Lee gave him a wary look; but there was desire there too.

“I’d try not to hurt you,” the older man said, as though this was a big concession. He paused, and Seunghyun could see he was still very angry. “…Much. I’d treat you real well. You’re a dangerous little fuck, but you’re too gorgeous to spoil.” Oddly, Seunghyun thought he meant it.

“What else?” he demanded. Lee took another step forward, then reached out and touched him. Seunghyun flinched visibly, but he wouldn’t fight, not until he really had to; he needed Lee off his guard. The bigger man smoothed his fingers through Seunghyun’s damp hair, a fond, avaricious smile spreading across his face as he felt him shudder.

“Greedy, eh? Well, you are a lawyer.” Lee’s eyes gleamed. “All right. You be nice to me, and I’ll stop telling the dirty pricks at base how nice your baby brother was to _us_.” Seunghyun snarled at him, and Lee laughed. He touched the younger man again, a light caress to his jaw as if to see how far he could push him. “ _Still_ beautiful,” he said tauntingly. “It’ll take more than that to put me off. So choose: I can beat you bloody, or I can make you beg me for more. Which do you want?”

“…Neither,” decided Seunghyun, with a gasp of absolute relief as his phone rang three times and then stopped.

“That ain’t really an option for you,” explained Lee, ignoring it. He went for Seunghyun’s belt and hauled the smaller man against his belly. “Choose.” Seunghyun grit his teeth, then slid his gaze over Lee’s left shoulder. Lee really was an animal, and he had an animal’s instincts: as Seunghyun’s eyes moved he stiffened. Keeping a tight grip on Seunghyun, he turned.

Ranged in front of the door – he didn’t know how they’d managed to close it so silently – were Seunghyun’s three guys. He didn’t know them, had never met them, but he knew they were his. One slid a phone back into his pocket, and addressed Lee in a detached tone.

“I reckon he can choose not to choose.”

Seunghyun saw Lee give them a quick, evaluating glance, sensed his weight shifting.

“You dirty fuck,” the older man murmured, almost appreciatively. Seunghyun wasn’t sure of what clever thing to say to that, but it immediately became a moot point: Lee dragged him forward, gave him a kiss that felt like a punch, and then headbutted him before rounding on the three advancing Jopok.

Seunghyun was torn between throwing up in disgust or from the pain in his skull. Either way, he did – he hadn’t been expecting either. Amazingly for someone who had spent two years in the Army, he had never been in a real fight; the closest he had got was when the sixteen-year-old Jiyong had headbutted him. Jiyong had kissed him then too, but neither the blow nor the kiss were at all comparable to what Lee had just landed on him.

He straightened up as soon as he could, vision spinning, and staggered forward to join in the fight. Then he thought better of it, because what the hell was he paying the Jopok for if not the full package? There was already a melee underway, and all four of them seemed to be having an exciting time. Seunghyun edged round them and backed into the doorway, then watched with savage enjoyment as his enemy got the shit kicked out of him. It was a close-run thing, mind: Lee was big and well-trained, and his only hope of getting out was to really go to town on the other three.

“…Hey!” exclaimed one of the gangsters – Seunghyun thought it was the one who had phoned him with the signal that they were ready – “You seen enough yet?!” Seunghyun scooted back as someone’s leg came out kicking in his direction, but the guy managed to catch his eye.

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun, shuddering: with the fact that watching this had been pleasurable, and with fear that the next part would be too. “…I’m good.”

“Great.” In an instant two of Lee’s opponents broke away. The other two men remained, frozen: the bright blade of a knife was just touching Lee’s stomach. Seunghyun was transfixed by its flashing length, enough that it took several seconds to realize all three of them were armed. Lee was also staring down at the knife as if fascinated. Then his gaze rose to meet Seunghyun’s, and for the first time since they had met again Seunghyun saw what he had wanted to see: the rising tide of fear.

“That kid was so important to you?” said Lee in genuine disbelief; Seunghyun could hear the quiver beneath the defiance, and it was delicious. He swallowed. There was a metallic tint in his mouth, as if he could taste the knives.

“Always,” he replied quietly.

“…How far you gonna go with this? Huh?”

“How far did you go with my baby?” The three Jopok were watching them impassively, and Seunghyun didn’t want to speak Jiyong’s name out loud.

“Think you can live with it?” Lee tried, making a slight experimental movement; he hissed as the blade bit through his shirt. “You don’t have to find out, boy, we can both walk away…!”

Oh, Seunghyun wanted to; he knew what a relief it would be to just…go back. It must be showing in his face, because Lee was still talking, angry and coaxing and affectionate in turns, and the best parts of Seunghyun wanted desperately to let him go. He wondered which option would be more cowardly.

“Everybody shut up,” he managed, and for a wonder it went quiet. “I told you to get ready,” he said to Lee, looking him in the eyes again. He let himself drift for a while, mentally playing out every way this could go as the tension grew in the older man’s body until his muscles began to shake. They were all waiting for him.

“ _Don’t_ ,” said Lee, and Seunghyun knew he would hear that warning word for the rest of his life.

 “…Say the word, Boss,” said Lee’s assailant patiently. Three pinpoints of light flickered as the professionals shifted their blades.

Seunghyun waited for a long, breathless moment, and found himself absolutely cold.

“…Yes,” he whispered.

He watched; he made himself. He owed all of them that much: Lee, and his brother, and himself. Then he went home, took two sleeping pills, and got into bed in the spare room with his wet clothes still on. When he breathed deep enough that it felt like his lungs would burst, he thought he could smell Jiyong.

 

* * *

 

 

Haewon didn’t ask what the hell had got into her boyfriend when she woke up to find him passed out in the spare bedroom. She just scolded him, took his temperature, and made him breakfast before sending him back to bed. Seunghyun was willing to go. He didn’t want to talk to her; he didn’t want to do anything. He took a day off work; he needed that long to stop his hands from shaking every time he went to pick something up. The day after that he went back and took up the reins as if everything was perfectly normal.

It had always worked before: repressing the things Seunghyun had done had become a habit. It didn’t seem to be helping this time.

In the days that followed, Seunghyun felt over and over the same furious and disjointed panic that had hit him the first time he’d seen Jiyong in the Army hospital all those years ago. It was the feeling that had got him blind drunk and desperate enough to down a handful of pills, accidentally or not: guilt, malice, and misery. Lee’s fate hung on him like Minjun’s had not. Seunghyun knew that if he had to do it over he wouldn’t change a thing, but that didn’t make it any easier to live with. He kept a close watch on himself, scared that he’d do something stupid again in a moment of lost control, because this time there would be no-one else to look out for him. He couldn’t tell _anyone_. Not his old therapist; not even Jiyong.

He should never touch Jiyong again, however desperately he wanted to. Not after what he had done. Besides, it was for the best; Jiyong was happier when Seunghyun was being a proper brother: not confusing him with illicit kisses or long absences, just being there for him when he needed it. It was the height of selfishness – no. It would be a sin worse than any Seunghyun had committed to try and find salvation in Jiyong.

There was only one sensible way for Seunghyun to find himself again, and morally speaking he didn’t feel great about that, either. But he knew she could do it: Haewon could heal him. And she would never have to know: what he felt for Jiyong, what he had done to his brother’s enemies. He wouldn’t have to hurt her; he wouldn’t hurt either of them ever again.

The important thing now was to keep her. So one night after work Seunghyun headed out to Jongno with his credit card and did the only thing he could think of.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. There you have it!
> 
> Next chapter: Seunghyun finishes going all Cesare Borgia in defense of his beloved sibling, Jiyong comes home, and we wind up this dramatic book!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's taken a chance on an unfinished fic and kept reading through the dark times I've inflicted on our guys. Rest assured things will get better in Book 4 :)


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong comes home to a shock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, then, the final chapter in Book 3. Thank you for waiting patiently :)

“…Why didn’t you go to the police with all this?” demanded Kim heavily. He had called Seunghyun three days after Lee’s body had been found, and personally summoned him to the mountain; not to the usual soldiers’ bar but a dark hole-in-the-wall joint staffed by one rugged old man listening to the radio in back. It fit Seunghyun’s mood. He hadn’t wanted to come, but he couldn’t refuse Kim.

“I couldn’t,” he said. The officer frowned at the simplicity of his reply.

“That’s what I thought you _meant_ when you asked me not to interfere,” Kim told him. “You surely had enough with your brother’s testimony for the police to demand DNA tests. I wouldn’t have tried to block them. If they matched it would have been out of the military’s hands; those men would’ve paid in court for what they did. You wouldn’t have broken the law, and I wouldn’t be covering for you now!”

“The world is a horrible place, Sir,” Seunghyun explained, shrugging. He felt numb. “The human part of it, anyway. _Nobody_ wants that case going public, if it even still exists; Jiyong doesn’t want the whole of Asia to know he was raped any more than the military does. The way people think here? It would ruin his life; they’d look at him like he was damaged goods forever.” Kim sighed. “The only difference between us and the military,” continued Seunghyun, “is that _we_ wanted those men punished. It didn’t have to be public; it just had to be done. But the Army failed my brother. You did too, Sir, even if you didn’t like it.” The older officer scowled at that jab, but he didn’t dispute it.

“So,” the Captain pressed him.

“So. No Army. No police, no court, no scandal.” Seunghyun smiled grimly. “That just leaves me. I’d do anything for my brother, Sir. Anything.”

“And you _have_.”

“Yes. And now it’s over. Though I suppose that depends on you.”

“On me?”

“And what you want to do.” Seunghyun looked at his old officer: his tired face, his straight posture from a lifetime of service. “I wouldn’t ask you to do anything you feel is truly wrong,” he told Kim frankly. If he reported him, Seunghyun decided, he wouldn’t hide. He would take the fall, although he was prepared to lie his ass off about why he had done it. Anything to keep Jiyong’s reputation safe.

Kim looked at him for a long time; Seunghyun could sense the older man trying to read him. It wasn’t a pleasant sensation, but he certainly deserved the discomfort.

“…No,” said Kim at last, and Seunghyun inhaled quickly. “Like you said, it’s finished. And you’re right; I do believe they deserved to be punished, because they did something appalling.” Seunghyun waited; the words were placatory but his face looked grim. “But you handled that man in a way no law-abiding citizen should,” Kim stated flatly. “Never mind someone who _practices_ the law, who proves every day how it can be used for good.”

“I know.”

“I’ll keep this to myself,” said Kim, “for the sake of your brother; he was a good boy. And your father, who’s one of our own. But you…no.” He gave his head a terse shake. “I know you were doing what your conscience told you. But your code of honour is skewed, son, too far for me to accept.”

Seunghyun felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach, a darker version of the sensation he experienced when he disappointed his father. But he had no cause to complain. Kim’s jaw tightened, but he ploughed on regardless.

“You’re not the person I thought you were. Or you’ve been made into someone else. Either way, you’re dangerous: so our connection ends here. We won’t speak again. Don’t visit me, or call me, or use my name as a password to any kind of favour. That’s what my silence costs.” He sounded regretful, but not in the least hesitant. “Do you understand?”

Seunghyun swallowed, the corners of his mouth contracting downwards. That hurt. But he would rise to it. He wasn’t going to disappoint Kim a second time.

“Yes, Sir. You’ll never see me again.” Seunghyun stood tall and gave the man a very proper salute. Then, “Thank you,” he said, meaning it entirely, and walked out. It would not hit him until days later how much Kim’s judgement had affected him.

 

* * *

 

 

The bell rang.

“I got it!” shouted Seunghyun hoarsely, and all but ran for the door. He could hear Haewon laughing in the kitchen behind him. When he got there he almost couldn’t bring himself to open it.

He had to, though; he had to start living again. Seunghyun had kept a stern hold on himself for weeks, just as he’d promised he would, and had only suffered a couple of breakdowns when he’d had to lock himself in his office or go up on the roof to stifle a panic attack. It happened most often when he thought of what Kim had said, so he tried not to. And once when Gil had called to tell him Lee Sejun’s body had been found stabbed, and did he want to get together and talk about it, sort of _right now_? Seunghyun said he _couldn’t_ , which was the truth; Gil had sighed deeply and disappointedly and said he would wait. Seunghyun wouldn’t think about that now; he’d deal with that mess later – surely Gil would understand.

Haewon was worried about him, but not seriously; at last he’d learned to hide his distress from her. He’d been cruelly strict with himself, and it was beginning to take effect. But now Jiyong was home, and it was time to put it to the hardest test. Seunghyun opened the door.

Jiyong looked pretty jetlagged still – he had only been back two days – but as welcome a sight as Seunghyun could imagine. As he stepped inside Seunghyun saw the younger man’s hair was now pastel pink. He was wearing tight jeans and a fluffy sweatshirt in jaunty violet; the arms were too long. The next second Seunghyun grabbed him and pulled him into a convulsive hug, and found that the wool was warm and soft, as soft as Jiyong’s hair.

“Welcome back,” said Seunghyun into his shoulder. It had taken him a minute to speak, first pushing past the self-loathing that he was training himself to live with, and then trying to contain the violent joy he felt at holding his brother again. Everything was _done_ , he reminded himself, and he wouldn’t have to neglect Jiyong anymore. He would be the best brother; if Jiyong would let him.

“Thanks, Tabi,” replied Jiyong, sounding tired but pleased. At long last Seunghyun drew back and looked at him again, still holding on to his arms. Jiyong seemed quite serene, despite the faint shadows beneath his eyes. Evidently his world tour had been good for him. He had got very decent reviews, even from the Western papers – Haewon had been checking – and now he gave Seunghyun the old triumphant smile of his early twenties. It helped, a little bit: knowing Jiyong was at last moving on with his life made Seunghyun’s personal crisis feel ever so slightly better. And it let him comfort himself with the knowledge that the decision he had made was the right one.

“Honey!” And there was Haewon, coming to take her turn. Jiyong hugged her with every sign of affection. Seunghyun was cheered to see it. She led Jiyong straight into the kitchen and made him at home. Jiyong gave them both souvenirs and was soon chatting animatedly, his anecdotes punctuated by yawns.

Seunghyun stood watching the both of them, glass in hand, and considered himself a very fortunate son of a bitch.

“Did you bring the Lambo or what?” he asked Jiyong, when he could get a word in. It had only been delivered the day before. Seunghyun wasn’t much of a mechanical guy, but it would surely be a visual treat to see Jiyong in such a thoroughbred car. And he could do with a distraction.

“Yup.” Jiyong sipped his tea. “It’s in the guest space, I’ll show you later.” He gave Seunghyun a lopsided smile. “You can have a test drive if you want!”

“Why d’you think I’m not drinking?” replied Seunghyun. He’d known his generous brother would offer. Still, Seunghyun could use a real drink right about now; he needed to talk to Jiyong.

So when Jiyong went to wash his hands for dinner Seunghyun followed him.

“Hey. Come in here a minute,” he said quietly, beckoning from his office.

“What is it?” Jiyong blithely walked in. Seunghyun raised a finger to hush him.

“Got something to show you.” He opened his desk, rummaged around in the back and fished out a small box. When he looked up Jiyong was staring at it silently with an ambiguous expression; Seunghyun thought it was curiosity. He took a deep breath and opened the box.

Jiyong’s dark eyes gravitated to the diamond with the avaricious love of bling that Seunghyun knew was absolutely intrinsic to his brother’s character. Without asking he took the box from Seunghyun’s hands and held it up to examine the ring at close range. It wasn’t a very big stone, but it was flawless, set in the warm rose gold that Haewon favoured when she wore jewellery at all. Jiyong looked at it for a long time.

“Why are you showing me this?” he asked eventually. Seunghyun was listening carefully for any sign that he was pissed, but he just sounded inquisitive.

“…I want your blessing,” said Seunghyun honestly. He had no doubt Jiyong knew what kind of ring it was. Jiyong’s gaze flicked up to meet his, and Seunghyun experienced one of those rare moments when he couldn’t read his brother at all. He braced himself for his reaction. “Please, Jiyong,” he added, when the younger man didn’t speak. “This is important to me. If you don’t agree, I can’t do it!”

Another minute of thoughtful silence. Then Jiyong nodded.

“Yes,” he said. For a foolish, whimsical moment Seunghyun wished that was the answer to an entirely different question – the usual question that would accompany a ring like this. He mentally slapped himself: this was the kind of thing they’d worked so hard to get past! “Ask her,” continued Jiyong, his voice low and calm. “I’ll even be your best man, if you want. It’s the kindest thing you can do. For all of us.”

“Are you…sure you’re okay?” Seunghyun felt a huge swell of relief; but he had to check. Jiyong pursed his lips in his old, familiar way, then gave him a sweet smile.

“Yes, Tabi.”

“ _Thank you_.”

Jiyong passed the diamond back to him. On a grateful impulse Seunghyun caught his hand and raised it to his lips, just like he used to; for all he knew it could be the last time. He heard Jiyong sigh in a restrained way as he pressed a kiss to his fingers. For an instant time seemed to lag, though doubtless it was Seunghyun’s wishful thinking again.

“Dinner!” A bright voice interrupted them. Seunghyun jumped and released his brother’s hand, and turned to see Haewon’s head pop round the door. He didn’t think she had seen. Not that she’d mind, probably; Haewon didn’t mind anything. As long as she hadn’t spotted the box.

Jiyong was quiet but receptive during dinner. He smiled a lot, and that was good to see; it had been a long time. Afterwards he took Seunghyun down to see his new Lamborghini. The older man admired it extravagantly: pale and sleek and gorgeous, just like Jiyong.

“Suits you,” Seunghyun said.

“Right?” agreed Jiyong pertly, raising his chin at a photogenic angle. “You wanna try it?”

“Of course.”

They took a quick drive with Seunghyun at the wheel, heading towards Jiyong’s penthouse. Seunghyun was concentrating very hard on reining in all that horsepower, and barely noticed whether his brother was backseat driving or not. He pulled in at a convenience store to change places.

“You might as well just drive us back to yours,” he suggested to Jiyong, who shot a glance at him in the dark before pulling out into the street. “It’s closer. I’ll get a taxi home.”

“If you like.”

“Just to make sure you don’t crash!” said Seunghyun, only half teasing. “You look pretty knackered.”

“…Yeah.” Jiyong shut up then and focused on driving.

 

Twenty minutes later Jiyong backed the car into one of the spaces in his apartment’s underground garage, teeth biting at his lower lip in concentration; he wasn’t convinced he was totally on top of this magnificent machine yet. He switched the engine off and leaned back.

“Well done,” Seunghyun told him approvingly. “It’s quite a handful!” Jiyong nodded, his fingers skimming round the soft leather of the steering wheel. “It’s good to have you back,” the older man went on, and Jiyong noted tiredly that Seunghyun sounded completely earnest, even relieved – the wariness and distance that had characterised his brother’s attitude towards him in the months before his tour seemed to have vanished. He was sure he would feel glad about that once he’d processed it.

They sat there in the dark for a while. Jiyong thought that Seunghyun maybe wanted to say something else – about the two of them, or Haewon, who knew? He didn’t have the energy to ask.

“Suppose I should get going,” said Seunghyun eventually. “I’ll have your gate guard call me a taxi.” Jiyong nodded again. “I’ll see you in the week, yeah? And thanks again. I mean it.” Jiyong felt Seunghyun’s hand on his shoulder, and had to turn. “ _Thank you_.”

Seunghyun hugged him tight, before Jiyong could decide whether he wanted it or not. He immediately discovered that he did, and slid his arms around Seunghyun’s back. The bigger man squeezed him, ardent but suitably platonic, and before he was ready let him go.

“Night,” Seunghyun said, opening the door and clambering out of the low-slung car. “Sleep tight.” Then he shut it again and disappeared into the dark outside the parking lot.

Jiyong slumped back in his comfortable seat. He fiddled with the state-of-the-art stereo for a bit, then resumed smoothing his hands across the steering wheel. It was the most extravagant thing he had ever owned; he wondered where else he could show it off. He was sure Seungri would get a kick out of it. Youngbae would scold him for being OTT, but he’d like it really. Maybe he could put it in a video, even…

After a minute he noticed that he had stopped stroking the wheel and was instead clutching it tightly; his knuckles had turned white. It was with this sight that he realised he’d been thinking completely frivolous thoughts. And he knew why. In the same instant all the things he had been trying to block out hit him at once: Seunghyun was content – had learned to be happy without him. Seunghyun was getting _married_. And once he did he would never, ever be Jiyong’s again.

Jiyong gasped out loud, unable to help himself; it was like being hit by a bowling ball. He fumbled his door open – he had to get out of there.

 

Seunghyun had already called a cab and was chatting to the gate guard when he stuck his hands in his pockets and realised he didn’t have his wallet. Had he brought it out? Of course he had; he must have left it in the car.

“Be right back,” he told the guard, and jogged towards the building again on the off-chance his brother was still there playing with the car. Yes: there was a pool of light illuminating the section where Jiyong kept his vehicles. He spotted a splash of pink by the Lamborghini, and heard an odd noise.

“Hey,” Seunghyun called as he approached, “think I dropped my wallet in there. Can you-”

He stopped. The driver’s side door was open and Jiyong was sitting half in and half out of the car, one hand gripping the handle and his head bent to his knees so that all Seunghyun could see was the shock of his hair. He was crying.

“ _Baby_ ,” exclaimed Seunghyun, the endearment escaping his mouth automatically. “What’s wrong?!”

Jiyong didn’t reply, and no wonder: he was sobbing so hard Seunghyun would be surprised if he could hear anything. The older man felt his chest constrict painfully at the sight. He had never seen his brother cry like this, loud and unselfconscious, his shoulders shaking violently. Seunghyun dropped into a crouch in front of him and tried to peer into his face, but it was obscured by his slender fingers. They were wet.

“Please stop,” Seunghyun begged. He took Jiyong’s wrist gently; Jiyong didn’t react when he tugged at it. “What is it?!” He tried to raise the smaller man’s head, and then Jiyong resisted him weakly. He seemed to give in once Seunghyun’s hand was cupping his face, and his brother could at last get a look at him.

Jiyong was crying from deep down in his stomach, his chest heaving. It was not cinematic: his face had gone red and his eyes looked puffy, occasional hiccups escaping him as he gasped for breath; he hadn’t even tried to wipe his eyes or his nose. Seunghyun was really scared now. He had never seen his brother so careless of his appearance; even during sex Jiyong had always managed to look exquisite. Even after his assault he had been almost composed. But not now.

“Look at me, Jiyong,” pleaded Seunghyun, trying to get through to him. Suddenly Jiyong did. And as soon as Seunghyun met his eyes he realised what was wrong with the younger man: it was _everything_.

Seunghyun was stupid, he was so fucking stupid! He should have _known_. He should have tried harder to read Jiyong earlier tonight, he should not have shown him the ring, and he should never have assumed his brother was okay! Seunghyun had ordered himself to back off Jiyong and lean on Haewon – hadn’t wanted to stain his sibling with the crimes he had committed. How goddamn selfish it was! He should have known Jiyong would be heartbroken.

Seunghyun felt disgust at himself, and the ever-familiar sense of guilt; but more than all of that he felt protective. He knew instinctively that this was what he should focus on – there would be time to berate himself later, when Jiyong wasn’t hysterical. So he closed his arms around the smaller man and drew him close. Jiyong didn’t move, just let his head come to rest on Seunghyun’s shoulder, grit his teeth and continued to cry.

“I’m sorry, baby,” murmured Seunghyun against his ear. “Sorry, sorry, sorry…” His brother’s ugly sobbing didn’t abate. “Love you,” Seunghyun told him, petting his pink hair soothingly, and at that Jiyong’s strong hands rose to grip his jacket.

Seunghyun held him, whispered to him, lips on his ear, his cheek, until Jiyong went limp against him. He hadn’t stopped crying, but it sounded like he was starting to wear himself out. Seunghyun didn’t cry often himself these days, but he was tempted to join in at the sound of his brother’s profound misery. He didn’t – it was too selfish.

“Think you can stand?” asked Seunghyun softly, once Jiyong’s sobs had subsided to a series of shuddering breaths. He braced himself. “Up we get.” He drew Jiyong to his feet and took his weight. “Good boy…give me your keycard. That’s right…”

Jiyong leaned against him in exhaustion. He had gone quiet now. Seunghyun closed the door of the Lamborghini, patted Jiyong’s pockets firmly for the keys, locked the car and then the section door behind them. He set the alarm – all with one hand, he was still supporting Jiyong with the other – and took him upstairs. He hugged Jiyong again in the lift, pushing the hair back from his forehead to kiss it; his skin was too hot.

“…Sorry,” managed Jiyong in a damp voice, and embarked on a weaker round of tears. “I swear, I didn’t mean to…”

“Shut up.” Seunghyun unlocked the penthouse door. “Cry all you like, darling, I’m not going anywhere.”

“This is…so stupid…”

“Rubbish.” Seunghyun shut them in, then wrapped Jiyong back in his embrace. “Let it out. You’ve got time.” Jiyong sank against him. They stood there in the dark, too close to distinguish one from the other.

Once Jiyong had worn himself out crying Seunghyun ordered him into bed.

“Don’t do that anymore, okay? You were smart to get out when you did,” Seunghyun told him tiredly, as if that would make him feel any better. He meant it, too; now Jiyong had calmed down the older man was beginning to suffer the combined pangs of his old and new remorse.

Jiyong was holding his hand, stroking his fingers constantly over Seunghyun’s as if to be certain he was really there. He looked a mess, his eyes and his nose red from weeping and his pink hair mussed on the pillow. Seunghyun had never loved him more than he did at that moment, or felt worse about himself. Jiyong didn’t deserve to break his poor heart over a man who had done what Seunghyun had done.

“Smart?” said Jiyong hoarsely, sniffing.

“You should get away from me, baby,” Seunghyun confessed. He couldn’t bear lying to Jiyong, not when the ideal big brother he was so distraught over didn’t even exist! He clutched at Jiyong’s hand. “…I’ve done something terrible,” he said before he could stop himself.

“You’re getting married,” agreed Jiyong, his small face too weary to even look devastated.

“Not that. Something else. Something worse.”

Jiyong’s eyes widened as Seunghyun’s voice changed. The older man felt himself shrink under the heavy stare Jiyong pinned on him. Then,

“…You think I give a damn what you’ve done?” asked Jiyong, his throat sore from crying so that he sounded like somebody else. “I don’t care.” Seunghyun gave him an agonized look and opened his mouth; Jiyong hadn’t been there, hadn’t seen what he had done to Lee. But Jiyong wasn’t finished. “There’s nothing you could do,” he continued harshly, returning Seunghyun’s painful grip, “that would make losing you any less unbearable. I know that now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Seunghyun told him passionately. “For everything.”

Jiyong nodded exhaustedly, and held Seunghyun’s hand to his chest until he fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was woken by the chime of glass somewhere near his head. He opened his eyes, then squinted them half-shut again; his head was complaining at the invasion of pale sunlight through a crack in the curtains.

“Sorry,” came a low whisper, and Jiyong blinked and saw Seunghyun placing a glass of water on the table by his bed. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m…awake,” croaked Jiyong, and reached for the glass. He felt like he was coming down with a cold. It was then that his reluctant brain decided to remind him of the night before – all of it. “…Shit.” He flopped back against the pillows and stared at his brother. Seunghyun looked like he hadn’t slept at all. Jiyong remembered clutching his hand shamefully tight; perhaps he had refused to let him go.

“You okay, baby?” asked Seunghyun, slumping down on the edge of the bed. Jiyong flushed dully at the term: he knew it was his hysteria that had prompted the older man to use it. Seunghyun was looking at him gingerly, and it made Jiyong feel weak and needy and stupid. He _hated_ to feel like that.

“…What time is it?” he demanded, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt like crap, with nothing to show for it. The only thing he had done was upset his brother.

“Eight.”

“Did you text Haewon? She’ll be worried.” That wasn’t right.

“I called her,” Seunghyun assured him, giving him a peculiar look. Jiyong raised his eyebrows inquiringly. “She knows I was with you.” But she didn’t know _why_ , thought Jiyong. He pursed his lips. “Now. How’re you feeling, really?”

“I thought I was okay,” said Jiyong wonderingly, and it was true; his time with Seungri had grounded him and given him confidence, or so he had believed. Right up until Seunghyun had shown him that ring. “The whole time I was abroad I was getting better. I was learning how…how to live without you.” He saw Seunghyun’s jaw tighten. “I swear, I didn’t know I was gonna pull that stunt!” He thought about blaming it on the disorientation that often came when he finished a tour and could revert from being G-Dragon back to plain Jiyong. But he knew Seunghyun wouldn’t buy that – it had never hit him like _this_ before.

“I know.” The bigger man reached out and touched his hair, then his cheek. Illogically, it made Jiyong want to cry again. He forced it back. Every instinct he had was telling him he couldn’t do it: he couldn’t be whole without Seunghyun. But Jiyong was more than a creature of instincts, god-fucking-dammit!

“It won’t happen again,” he managed, more collectedly.

“…I gotta go,” said Seunghyun. Jiyong’s emotions disobeyed him yet again, skewering him with a panicky stab of regret that he had revealed himself to his brother so uncompromisingly. Seunghyun bent and kissed his forehead, which made it worse. “I’ll be back later, yeah?”

“You don’t have to go out of your way.” He pushed himself into a sitting position so he could at least appear level with Seunghyun. “We’re meant to see Dad this week anyway, we can just meet then.”

“Today,” said Seunghyun firmly. “All right?” Jiyong’s contrary mind had the gall to resent that: the intimation that he needed to be looked after. He did, god knew; but it wouldn’t help.

“Yeah. Later.” Seunghyun remained where he was for a minute, staring in a way that made Jiyong feel he was being looked into and right through. Then his brother sighed and left him.

Jiyong immediately got up, got properly dressed and shaved, then went through to the kitchen and forced himself to eat breakfast. He would have a full and productive day, he told himself sharply, and by the time Seunghyun got back he would be ready for the best performance of his life: he would show Seunghyun that everything was all right again.

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun took a cab home, his nerves jangling. He was so tired he had wanted to simply collapse on his brother’s huge bed and sleep. He’d been thinking all night, hadn’t been able to stop himself, that distressing scene playing over and over in his mind’s eye. He didn’t want to leave Jiyong like this; but he’d got the impression that the younger man could do without the sight of his face for a bit. Jiyong would want to collect himself.

As he neared the apartment he decided he hadn’t done enough thinking yet. He abruptly asked the driver to change course, and headed for his office. He messaged Haewon with the old story: something had come up at work. She didn’t reply, but it was around her yoga hour so he wasn’t surprised.

He lurked in the office for several hours, drinking coffee black from the machine and startling the weekend interns. He found himself circling in his head, the same quivery, disjointed feeling he had been wrestling with for weeks, only this was worse. He couldn’t settle on a definite course of action. But he couldn’t stay at work forever.

When he got home he was all wound up again, only to find his girlfriend was out. Seunghyun parked himself in an armchair. He wanted to call Jiyong, but he couldn’t. There was something he had to do first.

Just after lunch Haewon returned, her round face pink and alive with windburn.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted him, setting down her rucksack and shaking out her silky hair. As usual Seunghyun noted the decided kink on the left side that would never stay straight. All of a sudden he wanted to comb it for her; he’d used to do that, before he started spending so much time away. “How’s Jiyong feeling?” she went on. “Did you solve your work crisis at last?”

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun quietly. “Haewon-”

“Sorry I was out,” she continued. “But I didn’t know when you’d be home, and it’s too nice out to waste so the girls and I went for a hike. I saved you some sandwiches.”

“Can you sit down?” cut in Seunghyun hurriedly. He had to do this _now_. “There’s something we need to talk about.”

With her usual intuition Haewon caught the nerves beneath his tone; she went quiet and took a seat opposite him, dragging her stool close.

“What is it?” she prompted, when he didn’t speak. Seunghyun was conscious of a deep sense of consternation, and he hadn’t even begun to explain yet.

“…It’s difficult to know what to say,” he started awkwardly. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Just talk to me,” suggested Haewon kindly. That was all very well: she had probably never had a thought she was afraid to say out loud. Seunghyun readied himself.

“We’ve been together how long now…eighteen months? More?” Haewon shrugged; he knew she didn’t keep a mathematical count. “A long time, anyway.”

“It doesn’t feel that long,” said Haewon, giving him a very small smile.

“Well. Okay. Lately I’ve been thinking. A lot. About the future, and us.” He glanced at her quickly, then away, trying to read the emotional weather. She was listening intently, and her expression was like a breath held in anticipation. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yes.” Haewon nodded.

“But…” Seunghyun paused, then mentally slapped himself and pushed on. “But I’ve come to a decision about what’s best for me; for _us_.” Her face didn’t change. “I know your parents want us to marry,” he said firmly. “Mine too… But I can’t. And I know, I know it’s what we both intended when we moved in together but…I just _can’t_ ask to be your husband.”

“…Is that it?” asked Haewon, after a long, deafening pause. “I mean…I thought we were on track for that too. To be honest, I thought you were gearing up to ask me right now!” Seunghyun winced at the disappointment and embarrassment in her voice; she really _had_ wanted it. “You don’t want to marry me,” she said. “Okay. We can talk about that, this is the twenty-first century. But is that really what you mean? Is that _all_?”

“No,” confessed Seunghyun miserably. “I’m saying…shit. I’m saying that if I can’t commit to marrying you, I shouldn’t be with you at all.”

At that Haewon bit her lip, and it was so like Jiyong’s gesture that Seunghyun felt double guilt slam him in the gut.

“…Is this real?” she demanded breathlessly, still quiet, only the way she leaned forward intensifying the question. “Honey?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and felt like a coward. “It is.” He didn’t deserve her. Hell, he didn’t deserve either of them, but Jiyong _needed_ him. Seunghyun had been only too ready to deny himself the bliss he knew Jiyong could bring him. But despite his guilt over what he had done, every decent feeling left in him meant he could not now bring himself to deny his brother.

“ _God_.” For a moment Haewon covered her mouth with her fingers, and for the first time ever he heard her sound faint and unsure. “I can’t believe it, so suddenly…” Her free hand was twisting the fabric of her sweater. Her fingers looked so delicate, so vulnerable.

“It’s not you,” said Seunghyun earnestly. “Honestly, it’s not. You’re an amazing woman. I _do_ care about you, truly.” Haewon took an unsteady breath, and Seunghyun lowered his eyes; it was too hard to meet hers.

“Then-”

“Wait. Please.” Seunghyun held up his hand, feeling worse than he could have imagined possible. “I’ve only figured this out recently: I can’t marry anyone. Not just you. Anyone. Not ever.” It sounded like bullshit, and he knew it. But last night had shown him, clear as day.

Haewon’s dark eyes were shining, and when he glanced up Seunghyun saw she was about to cry. He braced himself for an outburst; her face was flushed. But it didn’t come – yet again Seunghyun had mistaken hurt for helplessness. Haewon leaned further forward on her seat.

“…Is there someone else?” Seunghyun felt his mouth tighten, but shook his head. “Look at me, please,” said Haewon in her clear voice. He had to; he couldn’t help it. “Is there?” she asked again, then paused. “Maybe…someone you can’t tell me about.” Seunghyun inhaled quickly, but kept quiet. “Someone you can never tell anybody.” She didn’t sound angry anymore. Just very, very serious.

Seunghyun had gone cold all over. He couldn’t ask her. He _couldn’t_. If he asked her what she meant, what she knew…she might tell him. And he didn’t think he could bear that. She was a perceptive woman; there had been so many times she could have seen… He grit his teeth to stop himself speaking, and when he finally looked up he found that _he_ was the one crying, silently and without drama. Haewon was staring at him in deep dismay; again, he didn’t dare ask her the real cause.

“I’m sorry,” he said, sincerely. “I do love you. Just…”

Haewon looked him in the face silently, and Seunghyun couldn’t work out now if he merely felt bad for her – or if he was afraid of her too. At last she reached out. Seunghyun wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d slapped him, but she just touched him beneath the eye with her small, calloused fingers. He looked down, guiltier than ever. Haewon brushed away a tear with her thumb.

“It’ll be the hardest thing, getting over you,” she told him – not accusingly, but as a simple statement of fact. “You awful, beautiful man. I know you’ll get over me, though.” She sighed. “That makes it worse.”

“…You deserve better,” muttered Seunghyun wretchedly. He caught her hand and she allowed it for a minute before drawing it back.

“Yes. I do.” He glanced up and caught her wiping her eye, her lips pressed together. “I deserve someone who’ll value me like _you_ value…the person you’re really in love with. I want to be treated like _that_.”

Seunghyun was about to ask ‘like what?’, but wisely managed to check himself. He was scared of her answer. Haewon let the pause stretch out, then took pity on him.

“Well, I’ll find someone like that.” She stood up, breathing rapidly but somehow more dignified than Seunghyun had ever contrived to be.

“You will,” Seunghyun agreed vehemently. “You’re incredible.” Haewon’s mouth spasmed for a second before she got control of herself. Seunghyun was sure she wanted to curse at him.

“Who’s going to move out?” she said instead, looking around the apartment; the home they had made between them.

“Me,” Seunghyun assured her quickly. “I don’t want to make this harder for you!” She nodded. “I’ll go crash with Jiyong,” he said.

“That,” replied Haewon, “makes total sense.”

They gazed at each other for another long, agonizing moment. Then Seunghyun got up, bowed to her in genuine remorse, and left her standing in the remains of their life together.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was in his small home studio, mixing with his headphones on. He had been there since breakfast, and it was sort of helping. Music had always worked to take him out of himself, as well as being a repository for the feelings too intense to keep inside him.

He glanced over at his neglected phone just in time to see it light up. He grabbed it and realised it was Seunghyun, and that he had sent him about a dozen messages.

_I’ve been downstairs ringing your bell for 15 mins! Please wake up and/or quit ignoring me._

Jiyong ripped the headset off and jogged through to the intercom.

“You still there? I didn’t hear you.”

“Finally! Thought you’d gone out,” came his brother’s voice from far below. He sounded relieved.

“I’m _fine_ , Tabi,” said Jiyong with some asperity. He didn’t want any more empty sympathy.

“Let me in.”

Jiyong did so and went back to his studio. Seunghyun found him there, music on, safe behind his keyboard and mixer.

“Can you turn that off?” asked Seunghyun, raising his voice. “It’s hard to talk to you like this.” Jiyong arched an eyebrow and obeyed. So much for sympathy. “Come out from there, please,” said Seunghyun, holding out his hand. Jiyong got up warily and circumvented the desk, folding his arms in an unconscious defensive gesture. Now he was this close, the older man looked weird. Probably from his sleepless night.

“You didn’t have to come back, you know,” Jiyong told him.

“I split up with Haewon.”

“You’d be better off getting some slee-” Jiyong broke off and stared at him. “…Say that again?”

“I broke up with Haewon. It’s over.”

Jiyong looked at him blankly for several seconds, then blinked and focused: Seunghyun had been crying. He stared past him into the hallway; there were bags there. Jiyong started to tremble.

“Can I stay here?” asked Seunghyun very quietly. Jiyong opened his mouth.

“You massive…stupid fucking _idiot_!!” Before he realised what he was doing his hand was up and connecting sharply with Seunghyun’s cheek in an open-palmed slap. He hadn’t been sure why he was shaking, but it seemed he was _appalled_. Seunghyun didn’t react to the blow; he just dragged a hand through his hair and gazed at him stonily, his lips pale and compressed. “Why the hell did you do _that_ , you imbecile?!”

“I want you back,” announced Seunghyun. Jiyong sucked in a harsh breath. “After last night how could you think anything else?”

“I _told_ you,” said Jiyong furiously, “I was being stupid, that’s all. Well, who’s fucking stupid now?!”

“We both are.” Seunghyun took a step forward. “Don’t think either of us would argue with that.” Jiyong backed away as his brother made another impulsive move towards him. Seunghyun looked hurt; he reached out and made a grab for the smaller man, catching his hand. Jiyong clenched his fist, but Seunghyun didn’t let go. “I love you,” he said vehemently.

“I know!” Jiyong stared up at him; had Seunghyun lost his mind? “Since when has that had anything to do with this?!”

“Since I was the one to blame for making you so fucking miserable you had a meltdown in the parking lot.” Seunghyun squeezed his hand painfully.

“I’m not weak, Tabi,” Jiyong said grimly. If there was one thing he hated, it was his brother thinking _that_. And then, before he could stop himself: “I won’t be a victim my whole life! I _refuse_ to!!”

“You’re not. I know you’re not weak. It’s me, don’t you get that?” insisted Seunghyun. “I’m the one who can’t do without _you_.” Jiyong stared at him; that had to be bullshit, after his behaviour over the past year.

“If you remember,” he told Seunghyun, ignoring that last statement, “ _I_ was the one who started all this!”

“I remember,” said Seunghyun, sounding bitter. “And now I’m finishing it. I _have_ finished it. I’ve moved out.”

“…You can’t.”

“I can’t be a hypocrite anymore,” Seunghyun pleaded. “ _Please_ don’t make me, when you’re the only one I love!”

“I know that’s not true,” whispered Jiyong. He simply could not believe Seunghyun had done this; it had to be another temporary whim. “You love Haewon, and so do I.”

“Okay.” Seunghyun sounded desperate. “I love her the same way you love her. But that’s not the way I love you, Jiyong, I _know_ you know what I mean! I won’t go on making you unhappy, and I can’t do without you anymore. I want to be yours again.”

“…And what about Dad?” Jiyong watched his brother’s face set determinedly. “Why have we screwed ourselves over for the last two years if not for that?!” It had been Jiyong’s big idea, sure, but Seunghyun had gone along with it!

“I’ll feel guilty over that. Like with everything else. But Dad’s so much better now, and he has someone, and…and I can’t believe he’d want us to be so miserable, baby. I’ll tell him it’s over, and he’ll just have to…deal with it.”

“That’s cruel,” said Jiyong, ignoring the terrible feeling of hope that was trying to well up in his chest.

“And what I’ve done to you isn’t?” Abruptly Seunghyun took him by the shoulders, like he was scared Jiyong would disappear. Jiyong gazed up at him, eyes wide. “I kept telling you and telling you that you’re the most important thing in the world, even when I was with Haewon; even when I was doing…other things. But I never _showed_ you!” His thumbs were caressing on Jiyong’s arms. “…I finally saw that last night. I’ve neglected you, I know. But from now on I’ll show you; every day of my life.”

“Show me what?” Jiyong whispered. Seunghyun was staring down at him as though nothing else existed on Earth.

“That you _are_ my life.”

And at that Jiyong stretched up and kissed him; he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. Seunghyun didn’t make a sound, just returned the kiss, a long, unaffected caress that felt to Jiyong like a contract being sealed. It was too solemn to be erotic at all; there was too much relief in it: the first breath of air after years of being smothered.

He didn’t want the feeling to end. And it was with some difficulty and a great sense of wonder that he realised _it didn’t have to_. He slid his arms around Seunghyun’s neck, melted into him, and breathed. It was like coming home. He felt his brother inhale against his hair. Jiyong wanted to stay exactly like this. And he could. So he did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends this book, on a more hopeful (I think!) note than any of the preceding chapters!
> 
> Book 4 will start going up probably this weekend, and will deal with questions like:  
>  _When will they get to have make-up sex? How is Seunghyun going to handle life post-revenge, and does Jiyong ever find out what he’s been up to? What role could Haewon play in their future? Why will Seunghyun be modelling diamonds? What does Jiyong want with a helipad? And which steps will they take next on the road through adulthood?_
> 
> It's gonna be a lot more fluffy than the last two books, so I hope you enjoy :)  
> Thank you for reading and letting me know your thoughts, frustrations, predictions, etc.!


	27. BOOK 4: Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun finally tells their father about the breakup, and Jiyong helps his brother feel better about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are at last, in the final book of this fic. The boys have made it through a bunch of the hardships I've inflicted on them; and, while there are still some revelations and growing pains in store for them, you'll probably be glad to know that this is a comparatively fluffy, happy book!
> 
> Thanks to all of you for sticking with it through the misery, and I hope you enjoy watching Jiyong and Seunghyun mature together :)

Jiyong waited impatiently for Seunghyun to come home. It had been three hours, more; how long could it take? In the time he’d been gone Jiyong had managed to answer one long nagging email from YG, call Seungri and dictate the best restaurants to eat at in various American cities, and write the lyrics to half a song. Not a very good song, mind – he was too nervous.

“I’m going to tell Dad tonight,” Seunghyun had said. “So don’t come.” It was two days after he had moved in, and Jiyong was still trying to come to terms with the fact of it himself. Before everything that had happened they’d all planned to go out for dinner, to celebrate the successful merger of their father’s biggest client with another company. They were going to let him have barbeque, get him moderately drunk, and try and persuade him to retire. And instead Seunghyun was going to tell him…this.

“If Haewon’s parents haven’t blabbed to him already!” said Jiyong, immediately beginning to worry.

“I don’t think she’s told them yet. If she had you can bet we’d have heard from Dad by now.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me there? Like, for moral support?”

“No,” replied Seunghyun firmly. He raised his hand to the smaller man’s cheek; Jiyong covered it with his own and nuzzled against Seunghyun’s palm, revelling in being allowed to do so. “God knows what it’s going to be like, I’m not gonna make you go through it too.”

“Maybe he won’t go off the rails too badly if you’re in public,” said Jiyong doubtfully.

“Here’s hoping.” Seunghyun grimaced exaggeratedly, but Jiyong was sure that beneath the play-acting was some real trepidation. It would be awful, he _knew_ it. “I gotta go,” Seunghyun told him. “Wish me luck.”

Jiyong leaned up to kiss his brother softly on the mouth. Seunghyun hugged him quickly, then wrapped his coat around himself tight like armour and left to face the music.

 

Jiyong was watching MTV with the sound on mute when Seunghyun finally came back, letting himself in with Jiyong’s keycard.

“Tabi,” exclaimed Jiyong anxiously, jumping up to meet him and grabbing his hand. “Are you okay? Is _he_? How did it go? Was there a scene?” Seunghyun shook his head and shrugged his coat off.

“Never even raised his voice,” he said.

“But how _was_ it?” Jiyong slipped both arms around his waist. Seunghyun rested his head on the top of Jiyong’s for a minute and inhaled.

“Fucking terrible.” He sighed as the younger man burrowed beneath his arm. “But he got the point in the end.”

“ _Details_ ,” pressed Jiyong. He began to rub Seunghyun’s back soothingly; it was very stiff. He could imagine what his brother had gone through, but that wasn’t the same thing; he deserved to _feel_ equally bad.

“Nope,” said Seunghyun stubbornly, obviously disagreeing. “I’m not reliving _that_ evening again, not even for you, baby.”

“At least tell me what you said.” Jiyong leaned his head on Seunghyun’s shoulder and looked up at him persuasively. Seunghyun glanced down and Jiyong gave him a dose of his famous pout. “Just so we’re telling the same story,” he added sensibly.

“All right,” Seunghyun relented. “So I got there and of course he asked where you guys were. I said something had happened and you couldn’t come but not to worry, let’s go sit down.” Jiyong nodded anxiously; it had been one of the biggest points of concern for both of them: they had to avoid damaging their father’s health. Sure, he was fully recovered now, but who knew what a big upset might do to him? “I got him a drink first,” continued Seunghyun. Wise. “And then I said I had some bad news, but it was okay, nobody was hurt.”

“Good start.”

“Then I just went ahead and told him: Haewon and I broke up.”

“And?!”

“He didn’t believe me,” said Seunghyun unhappily. “He thought it was a joke to excuse why she hadn’t come! But I kept insisting.”

“And then?” prompted Jiyong.

“And then he said exactly what you said: that I was a fucking idiot. Just quieter, with less cursing.” Jiyong felt the older man shiver, and knew precisely why: he had felt it himself to one degree or another – the almost physical sensation of their father’s disapproval. “So of course,” went on Seunghyun morosely, “he wanted to know _why_ I’d done it. Totally assumed it was my fault, of course, the guy isn’t stupid.”

“So…why?” asked Jiyong. He hadn’t been able to think of a decent excuse himself – it would have to cover a hell of a lot of ground.

“The classic: too busy with work.” Yes, Seunghyun did like that one, thought Jiyong darkly, remembering the past year; he never had figured out what his brother had been up to, disappearing for nights on end and lying to both Haewon and himself. He was still in two minds whether to ask.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing, Tabi.”

“Mmm.” Seunghyun held him close for a moment as if weary beyond belief, then explained. “I said it wasn’t a problem with Haewon herself; but I’d come to realise I’m so invested in my firm and my career – so _passionate_ about human rights, it’s my calling and yada yada yada – that I couldn’t give enough to a relationship to make a decent marriage of it. And if I couldn’t manage it with Haewon, and let’s face it, she’s pretty fucking perfect…then I’d never be able to do it with another woman. I said it was a hard decision, but I was _sure_ ; and he’d have to learn to live with it like I had.”

“I bet that went down like a concrete block.”

“Yeah, exactly. He spent the next hour trying to convince me out of it. First he said it was a phase, and I was just starry-eyed at being my own boss but I’d calm down once I’d been at it a few years. Honestly, he was talking like I’m still a kid. So I reminded him of when I refused to come work for him, and he remembered how stupidly stubborn I am – his words. So then he tried telling me that I’d need a wife, and it didn’t have to be a perfect meeting of minds, I’d just want someone around the house having my kids!”

“Wow,” said Jiyong. “1950s much?”

“Right? No wonder he’s divorced. Sorry, baby,” added Seunghyun quickly, kissing his brother’s temple in case Jiyong was offended. Jiyong didn’t care. “Well, I laid out all my criteria for marriage, everything I’d insist on in a relationship, and it’s – well, it’s you.” Seunghyun kissed him again. “I just didn’t mention that part. He told me I’m too _picky_.”

“Quit sugar-coating, Tabi,” Jiyong ordered him. “What happened in the end?” Seunghyun went rigid again.

“He quit trying to persuade me. Once he’d tried every single argument, including the whole family line thing. Instead he…just told me exactly what he thought of me. How disappointed I’d made him. At length.” He shook his head. “This isn’t like all the other times, Jiyong. I’ve _really_ done it now.”

“…My poor Tabi,” Jiyong said softly, with unfeigned sympathy. “It’s done now. I’ve got you…”

“I told him I’m staying with you,” muttered Seunghyun. “He was so angry by then I don’t think he really took it in; but you can bet your ass he’s gonna make you talk to me. To change my mind.”

“I’m gonna say no,” Jiyong assured him, feeling fierce and protective.

“He won’t like that.”

“I don’t care.” Jiyong pressed his lips to his brother’s check shirt, right above his heart. It was beating quickly, still agitated. “You’re the one who’s taking all the flak, when it’s me who started it.”

“Just…brace yourself, baby. ‘Cos if he can’t get grandkids out of me, you’re next!”

“If it comes down to it,” said Jiyong, already flustered at the thought, “I’ll tell him I’m queer and see how he likes _that_.”

“Oh my God.” Seunghyun looked aghast. “You’d never ever hear the end of it!”

“I would if I threatened him with coming out,” Jiyong replied gloomily. “…Don’t worry, Tabi, I won’t. But I’ll do anything I can to make it better for you.”

“You already are,” said Seunghyun quietly, and hugged him tight.

“Come on.” Jiyong smoothed his hand over Seunghyun’s tight shoulders. “I’ll help you relax.”

 

Seunghyun poured himself a large drink from Jiyong’s expensive liquor collection – it was wasted on his little brother, who’d never acquired the palate for it, but Seunghyun was sure appreciative now – and tried to put it all out of his mind. For tonight at least. He heard the water go on in the bathroom.

“Come here,” said Jiyong, appearing in the doorway. “Come on. You can bring the bottle.” Good suggestion, thought Seunghyun, and followed him.

Jiyong relieved him of it in the bedroom, taking a deep swig of his own before setting it down. He slid one hand to the back of Seunghyun’s head, drew him close and kissed him. It began like all their kisses of the last few days: quiet and grateful; romantic rather than erotic. Neither of them had managed to take it further – it was as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. And now it had: Seunghyun officially belonged to Jiyong again. As Seunghyun thought this the younger man delivered another, more lingering kiss. His tongue flicked lightly over Seunghyun’s lower lip before Seunghyun felt the pressure of his white teeth. Jiyong made a small noise of enjoyment and slid his free hand up his brother’s torso.

Jiyong kept kissing him slowly, tantalising, skilfully building Seunghyun’s mood from gratitude to arousal, allowing the bigger man’s hands to glide possessively over his waist. His lips moved quietly from Seunghyun’s mouth to his neck, then down to his collarbone as he gently began to strip him.

“In here,” Jiyong murmured, backing them towards the bathroom. “Like we used to… _Oh_ , Tabi, I’ve been wanting this for so long…!” He paused to run his fingers admiringly over his brother’s stomach; Seunghyun sucked in another sharp breath and buried his own fingers in Jiyong’s hair, pulling him up to kiss him more deeply, to part those perfect lips and taste him.

“Wanna see you too,” he said in an undertone, thwarting Jiyong in his efforts by tugging the younger man’s tshirt over his head and easing his sweatpants and underwear down his slim hips and off. The sight of Jiyong naked showed Seunghyun that the image he had retained from before, which he’d thought was indelibly lodged in his brain, didn’t come near the perfection of the real thing. Jiyong slid his bare arms around his waist, and the shock of skin on skin sent prickles of arousal shivering up his spine.

They had reached the bathroom now. Jiyong turned off the tub before it could overflow with bubbles, then stripped Seunghyun of the rest of his clothes.

“ _Mmm_ ,” was all he said, before he tugged the older man under the shower and pressed their bodies together. Seunghyun could feel Jiyong’s erection against his thigh – God knew he was hard enough himself – but didn’t do anything about it yet, just clutched his brother to him as tightly as possible to feel every inch of him again. There was nothing like it, nothing at all.

Seunghyun stood there kissing him until the streams of water had half-blinded him. Eventually Jiyong drew him out, and immediately sank to his knees on the tiles.

“Can I?” he asked solemnly. Seunghyun nodded dumbly; Jiyong was gazing up at him, dark eyes mesmerising – something Seunghyun had never thought to see again. Jiyong bit his lip for a moment, looking endearingly nervous; then he circled the bigger man’s hard-on with his tattooed fingers, and leaned in. Seunghyun’s breath began to shudder. His brother looked up through his lashes, pink hair slick against his beautiful head, and without another word took Seunghyun in his mouth.

“ _Jiyong_ ,” was all Seunghyun managed before he stuttered into a silence punctuated with heartfelt noises of pleasure as Jiyong toyed with him. The younger man began slowly and escalated until Seunghyun’s cock was throbbing with delight; he was sure Jiyong was using every technique they had ever learnt together, and some that came from God knew where but which were enough to make him grit his teeth and grab at Jiyong’s sleek hair with both hands.

Jiyong sounded happy, his hands and mouth working in artistic tandem, and the little noises spilling from his lips were as though Seunghyun was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. The things that did to Seunghyun… He had _forgotten_ , he thought lightheadedly. In his long fever of missing his brother Seunghyun had been yearning for his heart, his mind, the sense of mutual ownership that he’d missed so badly. He had almost forgotten the sheer physical pleasure Jiyong could bestow.

“…I used to dream about this,” whispered Jiyong as he paused to take a breath, his thumb rubbing across the head of Seunghyun’s cock; evidently he had not forgotten at all. “How good it feels… _Does_ it, Tabi?” he asked teasingly, pressing kisses all along it. Jiyong’s pale golden skin had turned pink with effort, a work of art. Seunghyun didn’t reply, just cradled his lovely face until he was buried deep in his throat again. Jiyong finally took pity on him and stopped teasing, intensifying the speed and movement until the older man wished he had something to hold onto; he was getting dizzy, all the heat from the steam-filled bathroom pooling between his legs.

Seunghyun let out a soft, involuntary groan as he felt Jiyong’s finger slip carefully inside him. Jiyong didn’t stop moving his mouth, just played with him for a while until Seunghyun thought he would go crazy with it. Then he felt his brother smile around him and everything went white as Jiyong’s finger pressed against his prostate. That was enough, more than enough to tip him over: Seunghyun squeezed his eyes tight shut and came, holding Jiyong close, short nails digging into his scalp. Jiyong was ready, strong hands now holding on to his hips and keeping him safe, not a sound of complaint as Seunghyun pulled at his hair.

Jiyong waited for Seunghyun to finish, then swallowed and drew back, dropping soft kisses to his brother’s thighs and stomach while he calmed down.

“…Was it like you remembered?” he said at last, in that hoarse, sweet voice Seunghyun had always found so sexy and that was always wasted until he could get hard again. He rested his head against Seunghyun’s hip and smiled up at him hesitantly; his lips had turned red.

“Better,” Seunghyun told him seriously, getting down to his level; his legs were wobbly, that was how good Jiyong was. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He kissed him again, lingering; that mouth was too much to resist.

“Of course not.” Jiyong took both Seunghyun’s hands and slid them down his waist, over the curve of his hips to his ass. “I missed it the whole time I couldn’t do it. And now, if you’re a bit more relaxed…I want you to do _me_.”

“Do what?” asked Seunghyun in a low voice, just to see Jiyong shiver. He squeezed down indulgently, firm, smooth flesh beneath his fingers, and Jiyong moaned.

‘Everything…Everything you used to do.” Seunghyun nodded eagerly.

“I love you,” he said, because he was _allowed_ to now. “I want you so bad, I did the whole time… I’m not crazy enough to let another minute go by without you!”

“Stop talking,” murmured Jiyong, blinking rapidly.

“Sorry,” said Seunghyun, and tilted his brother’s face up to kiss him on his high cheekbone, right beneath the eye. “Enough sap. Get in the bath, baby.” Jiyong smiled at him.

“That’s more like it.”

Seunghyun began as slowly as Jiyong had: kissing his lips then every other part of his body, moving him around and even lifting him out onto the tiles to reach everywhere. Jiyong had got skinnier again during his tour – it wasn’t unusual with him running on adrenaline – but he still had the luscious lines of his ass and thighs to break up his angles. Seunghyun pressed his lips to the faint birthmark on the curve of his left hip, the damning proof that they had the same blood in their veins. Jiyong had gained a few more tattoos since Seunghyun had last seen him naked; the older man examined them carefully, tracing each stroke with his tongue and the tips of his fingers until Jiyong was panting and begging him to get on with it. Seunghyun aimed one more gentle bite at his small nipple, and relented.

He set Jiyong on his knees and pushed him over the edge of the bath, sliding one hand down past his flat stomach to check how long he would last; he was hard, but not in danger of finishing quite yet. Seunghyun leaned over his back and Jiyong gave one of his agile twists to meet his lips.

“Forget about this evening,” whispered Jiyong, fingers stroking the nape of Seunghyun’s neck. “Nobody else matters… Just you and me.”

“I already did,” replied Seunghyun, and to his surprise found it was true. Well, why _should_ he be surprised? Being with the smaller man had always been an all-consuming experience.

Jiyong sighed and spread his legs, inviting Seunghyun’s fingers to explore. He was almost ready for him, Seunghyun discovered as he carefully pushed one digit inside; Jiyong made a sweet, low noise and leaned into it, head dropping between his arms. The older man fumbled for the lube; it had been so long since he’d done this. But Jiyong was still hard. Seunghyun stroked his smooth inner thighs teasingly before inserting two slippery digits; he found Jiyong’s sweet spot after a minute’s searching.

“ _God_ ,” said Jiyong shakily, after a delighted exclamation of pleasure. “Isn’t…this nostalgic, Tabi?”

“Oh,” muttered Seunghyun, concentrating, “but you wanna reminisce?” He kissed the small of Jiyong’s arched back, then his tailbone, slyly adding another finger. His brother gasped, and the next moment was whimpering keenly as the bigger man used his fingers and lips and tongue to excite him. It _was_ nostalgic, thought Seunghyun blurrily, feeling tender and aroused at once: Jiyong seemed little different from the sixteen-year-old he had been when they were first together like this; but how goddamn much they had been through since.

“Please…” Jiyong was begging him after only a few minutes of these attentions. “Please, please, I’m ready _now_ …!”

Seunghyun took him by the waist and turned him onto his back, leaning down to kiss him clumsily; Jiyong returned it, lips hot and trembling against his, hands reaching to pull Seunghyun against him.

“Yes?” confirmed the older man breathlessly, pressing tighter. He curled his hands around Jiyong’s thighs. Jiyong nodded frantically.

“Yes, for chrissakes, _yes_! Tabi…”

Seunghyun eased into him, carefully as he could after so long, but he needn’t have worried: Jiyong was absolutely ready, erect and eager as Seunghyun went deeper, a moan of relief escaping his lips and his thighs wrapping around his brother’s hips to encourage him on.

It was the best. It always was with Jiyong. Seunghyun hadn’t forgotten _that_ ; but as the months had gone by he had allowed some of the precious details to slip from his memory: the heat of him, the scent, the way he demanded _more_ so ecstatically, his hands clinging to Seunghyun’s shoulders to drag him closer. Jiyong was looking at him, black gaze rapt, eyes half-shut only to open wide as the older man thrust deeper.

Jiyong reached down and began to touch himself as Seunghyun sped up. Seunghyun let go of his right thigh to help him, drawing him closer to orgasm, never losing the profound connection in his gaze unless it was to bend and kiss him hungrily. It was approaching, he knew it: Jiyong was getting tighter around him, his moans more acute as Seunghyun changed to the perfect angle.

“Now…!” commanded Seunghyun, and to his delight Jiyong came, leaving the older man laughing and both their fingers sticky. The smaller man intertwined his own with Seunghyun’s and held on, grabbing Seunghyun’s ass with his free hand to pull him towards his own climax. Seunghyun wanted to last longer, but it was impossible with Jiyong surrounding him, so hot and wet and tight, his toned body gleaming with mist and sweat and his exquisite face glowing with pleasure.

His brother held him while he came, then pulled him down on top of him, limbs curled around him like a monkey. Jiyong had always loved to feel his weight. Seunghyun could hear the younger man breathing harshly against his ear, pressing kisses to it as he moved sinuously beneath him.

“Love you…” gasped Jiyong, arms around Seunghyun’s neck. He was trembling. And then, “I’m sorry I was so fucking dumb, Tabi… _Jesus_ , that was good… _Never_ let me leave you again!”

“Thank you.” Seunghyun brushed the wet hair from Jiyong’s face, then kissed him leisurely to hide the quiver in his own voice. “And yeah, it was, and no, you bet I fucking won’t…!”

When Seunghyun felt able to move again he drew Jiyong back into the tub, and Jiyong found the energy to wash them both off properly. His fingers slid over Seunghyun’s body wonderingly, relearning it with silent concentration; once he was done the older man opened his arms and Jiyong sank into his embrace, face hidden in his neck. Seunghyun thought he was crying a little bit, and hoped it was with relief.

“Can you walk okay?” Seunghyun inquired at last, offering his hand to help his brother once the water began to cool. Jiyong took it and stepped gracefully out of the bath.

“I’m fine,” he assured him. Seunghyun was relieved; Jiyong had been hurt plenty already. The smaller man led him to bed. He fished the whiskey bottle out of the covers and handed it to Seunghyun, snuggling down beside him. For the first time in years Seunghyun felt so at ease he didn’t even have the urge to put clothes on; it was that good to feel Jiyong’s skin against his. He took an appreciative drink – really, it was top stuff, even straight out of the bottle – and Jiyong copied him, swigging it down as if it was any old crap.

Seunghyun felt magnificent. He aware that it would dip eventually, once the full impact of what he had told their father hit home. And of course there was all his other baggage. But for now, right now, he was perfect.

“…So,” said Jiyong, taking another drink. “While we’re having a ‘tell family members something awkward’ night…there’s something you might as well know.”

“What?” asked Seunghyun in trepidation. Dammit, he should have been more suspicious of those happy-clappy thoughts just now. Jiyong passed him the bottle, watched approvingly as he drank, then tucked one arm through his.

“I…had an affair,” Jiyong confessed frankly. “While I was on tour.”

“…Ah.” Jiyong gave a light sigh at his brother’s expression.

“Just for a few weeks. It was part of my recovery programme – for learning to be without you.” He leaned back against the pillows. “Well _I_ didn’t know I wouldn’t need it!”

“Okay,” said Seunghyun carefully. “It’s okay: you were single. You don’t have to tell me-”

“It was Seungri.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Seunghyun went ahead and laughed at himself; wasn’t that just typical. He’d been gearing up not to be jealous, to be liberal and gracious and understanding, and his brother had to go and screw that brat!

“Have another drink,” said Jiyong kindly. Seunghyun obeyed. Jiyong had the right to sleep with whoever he wanted, _obviously_. Was he jealous? Hell yes he was; but he wasn’t going to be a dick, he told himself severely. Because Seungri could make puppy-dog eyes at his senior as much as he liked now: Jiyong was _his_ again.

“Thanks for telling me, baby,” he said at last. “And don’t even worry about it. I get it.” Jiyong beamed sleepily at him. “Only,” added Seunghyun judiciously, “I hope you had safe sex!”

“Tabi! Of course I did. I would with anyone who isn’t you.”

“Because that kid is a total tramp.” So much for not being judgemental; but Seunghyun did read the tabloids! Jiyong swatted him sharply on the abdomen and chuckled, then settled down.

“But I’m all yours now.” He rubbed his cheek against the bigger man’s shoulder. “So let’s get on with life.”

Seunghyun nodded; that was indeed what he wanted. He reached over to the table for his Kindle and his glasses, then slid one arm around his brother and kissed him before finding his place and starting to read. _This_ was real life, he reminded himself blissfully: it wasn’t only concert stadiums and screaming fans, desperate secrets and revenge plots. It was just…being together. It was _this_. He had to remember that. Jiyong relaxed against him and closed his eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

When he wasn’t being stunned at having his brother back, Jiyong was feeling guilty. Of course he was, he was a – reasonably decent, sort of – human being. And in between being blissful, Seunghyun must be feeling the same. Jiyong could see it, a troubled crease between the older man’s handsome eyebrows when he lapsed into thought, the way he lay awake far into the night and drank too much in the evening. Haewon hadn’t contacted either of them: not to fight, not to ask Seunghyun to come talk about it, not to ask Jiyong what the hell was wrong with his brother. And now a few days had passed Jiyong found his own regret wasn’t just at what he’d done to Haewon; it was what he hadn’t done.

There was an easy way to resolve that. It took some time to muster the courage, but finally he was ready. So once his photoshoot for the day was done he wiped off his makeup and drove over to Seunghyun’s apartment. Jiyong guessed it was hers now. He rang the bell and waited, heart fluttering in his ribcage. He _had_ to do this, after how good she’d been to him. But how would he feel when he looked her in the face?

After a minute the door opened and Haewon gazed up at him; she didn’t look surprised, but then she’d have seen him on the intercom.

“Hi,” said Jiyong weakly.

“Come in,” Haewon invited immediately. She didn’t manage a smile, but given his position as the brother of the guy who’d just chucked her for literally no reason Jiyong was impressed she hadn’t slammed the door in his face. She led him down the familiar hall – she hadn’t made any changes yet, at least that he could see – and into the smaller living room. Where they had almost been a family.

“You want some tea?” asked Haewon. She didn’t look okay, thought Jiyong; she looked unhappy, but in a…healthy way. He wasn’t sure if that was the best word, but it was all he could come up with. Haewon wasn’t hiding her melancholy, because she wasn’t the kind of person who dissembled. It just sat there gently on her round features. Jiyong mentally contrasted this with his own modes of grieving, which consisted of either repressing everything behind an idol façade or all-out melodrama. He thought her way was probably better. Maybe he should try it.

“I came to see if you’re okay.” Jiyong sighed and allowed his face to do what it wanted, which was presumably to look guilty as hell. _Then_ he got a smile, the kind one; the one Haewon used for her surrogate little brother.

“Sit down. I’ll get some.”

“You don’t have to,” he protested. “If anything I oughta be looking after _you_.”

“You’re sweet,” she told him.

“I’m not.” God, it felt worse to have her think that than have her scream at him or start laying into Seunghyun. Haewon just pointed at the sofa, then went off to make tea.

When she got back she sat down next to Jiyong. She didn’t say anything, but she had never been one for filling up silence with unnecessary talk. This was also totally alien to Jiyong’s TV training.

“Are you going to stay here?” he asked awkwardly, for something to say. Haewon looked around; Jiyong could still see various belongings of Seunghyun’s, mostly books, lining the shelves. He supposed she would pack them up and return them at some point.

“For a while, at least,” she said. “Why?”

“I figured…you might go home,” he said lamely, though he was really wondering how she could live here with reminders of Seunghyun in every line of the room. Haewon smiled.

“Oh, no. That’s one thing your brother did give me: a reason to live apart from my parents. I’m keeping my independence, thanks!” Jiyong echoed the smile as best he could; he didn’t think it was much of a return on having her heart broken, and was impressed she could put such a good face on it. There was another lull in the conversation.

“I’m really sorry,” he said quietly, at last. “About Tabi, and…and everything. He’s pretty miserable, by the way; he’s hiding it but I can tell. I dunno if that helps.”

“Not really,” replied Haewon with a huff that was almost a laugh.

“It would me.” Jiyong sank back against the sofa cushion. “But I guess history’s proved I’m not as nice a person. I was just…I wanted to check if you need anything. Someone to talk to.”

He would have loved to be able to tell someone how unhappy he’d been when he made Seunghyun leave him; but the only person he could talk to at the time was the one causing all the problems. Jiyong imagined he’d be the last guy Haewon would want to open up to, but sometimes just offering could make a person feel better. It had when she’d offered to listen to Jiyong: when he’d told her his most painful secret.

“It’s all right,” said Haewon. “It would only make you feel awkward, honey; I know you’re loyal to your brother.” She took a sip of tea. “It would be odd if you weren’t, after he…”

“Yeah,” agreed Jiyong, when it became clear that sentence wasn’t getting finished. She was so _nice_ that every kind word hurt him more. He wondered if she could see it. He swallowed. “But I do care about you too. You were always so good to me…”

Oh god, was he about to cry? He seriously, seriously had to kick this habit! That was what repressing your feelings in public did for you.

“Come here,” said Haewon suddenly, and before Jiyong knew it her small hand was in his. A minute later he was lying with his head in her lap and wondering how the hell they had got here; in all his worried visions of how the afternoon might go, this was the very last he would have conceived.

“You think too much about other people,” Haewon scolded him gently. Her fingers combed through his pink hair, and he felt so comfortable but terribly sad.

“I _never_ think about other people.” Jiyong didn’t tell her that by coming here he hadn’t even been thinking of Seunghyun’s wellbeing; he’d been thinking about himself. “But…you two were really a good couple.” Haewon’s soothing movements paused.

“Were we?”

“Yeah,” Jiyong said with conviction. They _were_ , no thanks to Seunghyun. Or to him. Jiyong had a strong urge to tell her this was his fault, and apologise as sincerely as she deserved. But that would hurt her and expose them, and he couldn’t have that. Because that was the whole problem: he and Seunghyun were a better couple. Haewon brushed the hair off his forehead.

“…What a mess we are,” she said with a sigh. “The three of us.” Jiyong presumed she meant his constant intrusion into their lives, and his weird behaviour at the moment.

“Not you,” he stated earnestly, tipping his head back to gaze up at her. He met her eyes but couldn’t read them; not because she was hiding, but maybe because she didn’t even know what she felt. But he knew she felt sorry for him, and he wondered why. “Anything that’s wrong with you now you got from us.”

“Maybe. But we can’t undo it, and so here we are.” Haewon’s fingers were in his hair again, petting him as if he was a housecat. “The only thing to do,” she told him, “is make the best of it. Knowing that one day things will turn out okay.”

“Mm.” Jiyong very rarely followed that doctrine; his usual methods were to fight like hell or to be recklessly, dramatically self-sacrificing. Well, Haewon would no doubt get the best of it in the end: she’d find a loving husband who could acknowledge her in public and whose affections weren’t torn between his wife and his sibling.

“…Can I see you sometimes?” he asked selfishly. “Just to catch up.” He knew it wasn’t Haewon’s job to calm him down and make him want to be a better man – especially when any benefits would be going straight to her ex-boyfriend – but he hadn’t been lying. He _did_ care for her.

“Yes,” she said, after thinking about it for a long minute. “But…I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready to be friends with Seunghyun. I’ll try, but I just don’t know.”

“I get it,” Jiyong assured her. At least he’d be able to tell Seunghyun she was all right. “And I know he wouldn’t want me to bother you. This is all me.” Haewon chewed on her lip for a second.

“I hope he’ll be happy.” She paused. “I hope you _both_ will.”

Jiyong wasn’t sure what she meant by her inflection or the expression on her sweet face; but he knew that, whatever it was, she truly did wish it.

 

* * *

 

 

“…I went and saw Haewon today,” said Jiyong that night from where he lay in Seunghyun’s arms. “I’m not sorry.”

“How was it?” Seunghyun didn’t sound angry, just apprehensive. Jiyong pursed his lips.

“Awful, really.”

“How come?”

“…Because she made me feel better.” Jiyong paused. “She always has. I…I told her, you know. Before I went on tour.”

“Told her what?” asked Seunghyun quickly. Why did he sound so disconcerted?

“What happened to me.” Jiyong sighed; he felt Seunghyun’s body stiffen beside him and then relax again. “Kanayama kept telling me to talk to someone,” he continued defensively. “Especially when… You’ve been so _strange_ this last year, Tabi. If I’m honest you are still, a bit.” He sighed. “But we were apart a long time. I guess things change.”

“Was she…” began Seunghyun, disregarding most of that in a way that sparked an echo of Jiyong’s old suspicions. He decided to let it go for now. “How did she take it?”

“Exactly as you’d imagine she would. She was so sweet to me.” Seunghyun’s hand was stroking his back now, although Jiyong wasn’t sure which of them his brother was trying to comfort. “That’s why I feel extra crappy about all this. If it was any other woman I wouldn’t give a damn how you chucked her.”

“I know. And it was nice that you went to check on her.” Seunghyun hesitated. “She didn’t say anything…odd, did she?” he asked, making a peculiar face. Jiyong peered up at him.

“No? She was just so _selfless_. I mean, she told _me_ to take care of myself.” He sighed. “She’s not like you and me, Tabi.” Seunghyun frowned for a bit. Then he tucked one finger beneath Jiyong’s chin and raised his head enough to kiss him. God, Jiyong had missed that! He didn’t think it would ever stop thrilling him.

“ _No-one’s_ like us, baby,” said Seunghyun. He sounded like he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. But it was true. And that was why they had come back to this.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually I'm kind of 'meh' about the female OC characters I write; they serve a purpose and that's it. But I've got pretty attached to Haewon, so I'm keeping her to pop in and out of the story in a hopefully meaningful way :)
> 
> Next chapter: The boys venture into brand new career territory together...


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Youngbae gets married, and Jiyong finds a new and imaginative way to connect himself publicly with Seunghyun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy fluff fluff!

One day a few weeks after their reconciliation Seunghyun’s secretary called him on the intercom.

“Your brother’s here, Sir.”

“Huh?” said Seunghyun professionally, looking up from a convoluted but fascinating report.

“Your brother. He has an appointment.”

“He does?” It was the first Seunghyun had heard about it, but he took his glasses off, smoothed his hair back neatly, and tried to make his desk look a bit less like a war zone. He’d become increasingly untidy over the last couple of years – his old shrink would probably have a lot to say about that, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. “Er…okay, show him in, please.”

Jiyong strolled into the room, dropping Seunghyun’s secretary a wink as he passed her. She blushed and shut the door. Seunghyun raised his eyebrows: Jiyong was looking very smart in a beautiful Tom Ford suit, his incongruous pink hair swept back elegantly against his head. The older man advanced on him expectantly. Jiyong stuck out his hand.

“…To what do I owe the pleasure?” inquired Seunghyun formally, shaking it. That felt very weird. Jiyong nodded to him, then gave up being dignified and leaned up to kiss him soundly on the lips. “That’s better,” Seunghyun told him. “What’re you doing here?”

“I came to see you, obviously.” Jiyong beamed at him. Seunghyun backed him over to the desk and sat him on it.

“Why did you bother making an appointment? You could’ve just messaged me, you weirdo.”

“Ah.” Jiyong crossed his legs, lacing his fingers together over his knee. “But I’m here on business. I want legal advice, Tabi, and I want your help.”

“Mine?” asked Seunghyun, slightly perturbed, but he always felt that way these days. “Don’t you have an army of lawyers of your own?” Jiyong nodded.

“This is something else. Just listen, then tell me what you think.” Seunghyun leaned against a bookcase and stuck his hands in his pockets.

“Go ahead.” He was still slightly worried, but Jiyong didn’t seem upset; his eyes were bright and enthusiastic.

“I’ve been thinking a lot the last few weeks,” he said. “I’ve been so happy…since you did what you did.” Seunghyun smiled at him; in spite of everything he didn’t regret it for a second – how could he, when he saw his brother like this? The change from a month ago was clear; even Jiyong’s fans and the entertainment press were idly speculating about what had happened to make him look so radiant. “I did know,” Jiyong assured Seunghyun, “that I was the most important thing to you, deep down. But then you _showed_ me; you gave up everything for me, Tabi, and there…there’s nothing I can do to repay you.”

“Just be happy,” said Seunghyun; it was all he could manage. “You don’t owe me anything, baby.” Jiyong sighed and wiped his eye surreptitiously.

“I know that. But I wanna do something to show you I mean it too. I’ve always said you made me want to be a better man, and it’s true. So I’m going to do something to really make you proud.”

“Like what?” asked Seunghyun curiously.

“Something that’ll help people.” Jiyong gave him an earnest look. “I want to work for a charity.”

“Really!” blurted out Seunghyun before he could hide his surprise. He was aware that Jiyong donated – extremely generously – to various organizations, but he had never exhibited an urge to get involved on a more personal level. Jiyong pouted at him, then pulled his expression back to seriousness.

“You think I’m totally self-centred, don’t you.”

“No!”

“You think I’m a self-involved, vain little celebrity.”

“I never said that!” But Jiyong didn’t seem offended. He shrugged, and gave the older man a wry smile.

“Well it’s not totally inaccurate, is it. I _am_ really really famous, and I know the name G-Dragon commands a lot of interest.” Seunghyun made a face at him, not wanting to get into trouble. “So use me,” prompted Jiyong. “Let me publicise one of your causes!”

“You savvy little thing,” said Seunghyun fondly. “You’re right. Why not?” Jiyong’s features lit up. “It’s a great idea, really. But what kind of project do you want to join?”

“I don’t know,” said the younger man. “But you like the idea?”

“Yeah.” Seunghyun really did; it was a beautiful gesture on his brother’s part, even if he was doing it more for Seunghyun’s benefit than a burning desire to address human rights issues. His admiration must be showing: Jiyong was blushing lightly. Seunghyun wanted to kiss him again, but Jiyong was trying to do this properly. “Okay,” said Seunghyun, crossing to the desk and pressing the intercom button beside him. “You really want expert advice?” Jiyong nodded, absently straightening Seunghyun’s tie. “Then we get my partner in here; she’s the one who deals with the charities – I mostly represent individuals or do class action stuff.  Plus she’s got fifteen years’ more experience.”

“If you think that’s the best way.” Jiyong patted his hand, so Seunghyun went ahead and relayed the request via his secretary. He passed the time waiting to see if Jiyoo was available by praising his brother’s philanthropic urges extravagantly and trying not to kiss him. By the time Seunghyun’s partner made her way through to his office Jiyong was pink with pleasure at the older man’s words.

Seunghyun remembered his manners and introduced Jiyong formally to his senior partner. Jiyoo shook his hand – she had a deceptively firm grip for a small woman, and Seunghyun could tell she was using it on him – and gave him the friendly smile that meant she was waiting for more information before she finished evaluating him.

“Jiyong has a proposal,” said Seunghyun, business-like. “Go ahead, tell her.” Jiyong pulled out a chair first and offered it to Jiyoo, whose smile widened fractionally. Smooth, thought Seunghyun. They all sat down and Jiyong cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” he began. “But I want to start some charity work. I live such a fortunate life, and I want to use what I have to help people. So I came to ask Tabi for advice. But he says you’re the expert!” Jiyong flashed his white teeth at her. Jiyoo looked him up and down appraisingly.

“How serious are you?” she asked. “How deeply do you want to be involved?”

“As much as I can be,” Jiyong assured her. “I want…something big. Something that’ll be hard work but could really make a difference.”

“Hmm.” Jiyoo sat back in her chair. “We have a few interesting projects under way; I’m a consultant on several charities trying to generate youth interest. Using your brand could make a big difference.” Jiyong was nodding at her as he followed her chain of thought. “On the other hand…” the older lawyer continued, “it’s a fact that your particular level of stardom could be rather…overwhelming.” That was an understatement, thought Seunghyun.

“How so?” asked Jiyong.

“These are small projects. There’s a danger all the attention would fall on you – not your fault, it’s the nature of using celebrities – and overshadow the actual message and impact of the founding activists.”

“Oh. Right.” Jiyong sounded like he wasn’t totally sure what that meant but was bowing to the voice of experience. Jiyoo would like that, Seunghyun knew: having a star of Jiyong’s status get personally involved in voluntary work was rare, and to get a tractable one who listened to advice was the jackpot.

“The alternative,” Jiyoo told him, “is to start from scratch. Take a cause you care about and build a whole campaign from the foundations up; the foundation being you.” Seunghyun sensed Jiyong prick up his ears.

“That sounds…exciting.”

“It’s a lot more work,” Jiyoo warned him. “You’d have to decide on a cause, a direction, a name, a goal. Then you’ll need a whole team, not just legal but every kind of person required to run an organization. Your brother can be your lawyer, of course, and I’ll advise. But you’d have to take a lot of responsibility.”

Seunghyun watched his sibling mull it over. To his satisfaction he saw that Jiyong really _was_ thinking. It wasn’t that he saw the younger man as flighty or shallow – he knew how deep Jiyong ran – but he’d suspected this proposal to be a whim, a symptom of his happiness at having Seunghyun back. But he did look serious now.

“I want to,” said Jiyong eventually. “I wanna be more than just a name and a face on a screen. I want to do something _real_.” Seunghyun blinked. He hadn’t known Jiyong felt that way about the ephemeral nature of his pop stardom. Of course, Jiyong had only just begun confiding his private thoughts to his big brother again. Seunghyun silently resolved to do better from now on – to relearn Jiyong in every possible way.

“All right.” Jiyoo looked cautiously optimistic, though Seunghyun knew she had dealt with celebrity endorsers before and regarded them as difficult. “Then let’s start from the beginning. What sort of cause are you interested in?”

“…If I could, I’d support LGBT rights. Especially for teenagers.” Jiyong coloured and shot a look at Seunghyun that said he was nervous admitting it even in this friendly, confidential setting. “But that’s impossible, I can’t…”

“Not in the current climate,” agreed Jiyoo regretfully, not even batting an eye at Jiyong’s tacit admission. They all knew it was hopeless to expect Korean A-listers to out themselves without facing huge repercussions. “Not if you want to keep your idol career on track.” Seunghyun gave his brother a warm smile; Jiyong was a sweet, brave creature to even hint at it. “You can donate confidentially, of course,” continued the other lawyer.

“I already do.” Jiyong raised his proud little chin and took a breath. “And to rape survivors and PTSD groups. But all those are just too…”

Jiyoo was looking at him carefully, nodding. Seunghyun, who knew her better, could read surprise and sympathy in her expression, but it was well hidden. He was quite shocked that Jiyong was revealing himself to a third party like this; but his senior partner had a very trustworthy manner, and Seunghyun was glad of it. It surely helped to tell _someone_ ; and perhaps opening up to Haewon had been a catalyst for his brother’s healing process. Jiyong swallowed.

“I need something personal to me. Just not... _personal_.”

“Good start,” said Jiyoo patiently. “What are you interested in? What do you enjoy?”

“Music, fashion, art,” replied Jiyong immediately. They all sat around and thought about these options. Seunghyun could sense that his partner had a whole bunch of ideas to hand, but she didn’t seem about to offer any. He suspected this was a test, though he was uncertain for whom. He considered Jiyong’s image, the people he knew and had influence over, and what issues his brother was best qualified to fight for.

“What about ethical fashion?” he suggested at length, still mulling it over in his head. The other two raised their eyebrows at him. “Jiyong’s a fashionista,” he reminded them. “An _icon_ , these days. Along with ‘musician’, that’s his star image. He has fans and connections in clothing companies and couture magazines all over the world.”

“Yes?” encouraged Jiyoo.

“Well, what if he starts a project to stop exploitation in the production of fashion?”

“Like what?” asked Jiyong, frowning. “Sweat shops in India and stuff?”

“That, yeah. But not just in India, those places exist much closer to home. And it’s not only sweat shops, there are a whole bunch of other human rights violations involved in fashion: exploitation of workers generally, all the blood that gets spilled mining precious metals and stones, child labour, traders dealing unfairly with indigenous peoples for their products…it’s a long list.”

“Whoa.” Jiyong looked surprised; Seunghyun bet he had barely given a thought to the process of making his clothes, beyond their design and quality. Mind you, Seunghyun hardly thought about it himself. Maybe that was a problem they could address. “It sounds like my kind of project,” said Jiyong slowly, and Jiyoo nodded. “So, what would the goal be?”

“First to raise awareness,” explained Jiyoo. “Get some brands on board. Then…” she looked at Seunghyun.

“Push to implement national and then international standards in the production of clothing and accessories,” offered Seunghyun. “Starting with the couture houses – they’re not too bad, they can afford to produce locally and source ethical parts if they want to – and working down to the high street. It’s a huge long-term goal,” he added, “but if it takes off you’d collaborate with other charities and NGOs that have more experience.”

“Okay.”

“You might have to give up some of your favourite brands,” Seunghyun warned his brother. “If you find out they’re exploitative you can’t be seen wearing or supporting them.”

“…Yes,” said Jiyong. “That makes sense.” He smiled. “If I have to I’ll start my own brand! Always wanted to do that.”

“You’re going to be a busy young man,” said Jiyoo drily, but Jiyong’s eyes were shining with enthusiasm, and Seunghyun knew he was into it. “You’ll have to do a lot of research – I’d hire a whole team – before you start publicising any of this. You need to know what you’re talking about.” Jiyong nodded solemnly.

“What about the name?” asked Seunghyun. The memorability of a charity’s name and logo was key to its success with the public, he knew. Jiyong stared up at the ceiling for a minute.

“Any ideas?”

“Not right on the spot,” Seunghyun admitted. Jiyoo was watching them tolerantly, and he knew they’d be left to figure it out for themselves.

“Me neither.” Jiyong smiled. “I can ask Youngbae now he’s back from the Army, he’s good at that stuff.”

“We’ll have a meeting,” Jiyoo told them. “You can’t go about this half-assed.”

“I never do _anything_ half-assed,” Jiyong informed her with dignity. Seunghyun sniggered, and turned it into a cough. Jiyong rolled his eyes and ignored him. “So. How much money will we need to start this up?”

“How much do you want to give?” asked Jiyoo, practically. “You’ll be fundraising too, don’t forget.”

“I don’t know,” said Jiyong. “I’m not even sure how much I have; just that it’s too much to know what to do with.”

“Then we’d better have your accountant in the next meeting. He can tell you about the tax benefits, too.” Jiyong nodded.

“I just want to do it properly.” He looked at Seunghyun hopefully. “Will you come in with me, Tabi? I know you’re busy, but…could you be my partner? Not just my lawyer, but work with me on everything. I’d really like it.”

Seunghyun, after his initial surprise, felt himself smile widely at the thought of it. He should have known that Jiyong would be the one to make him a good man again. He didn’t want to steal Jiyong’s thunder – well, that was practically impossible, anyway – but the idea of being connected to his brother in such a public and meaningful way made him warm all over.

“If you want me,” he said, and Jiyong beamed back at him. “If Jiyoo thinks it’s a good idea.” She nodded thoughtfully.

“It’s about time you put your stamp on something big,” she advised. “And it certainly wouldn’t hurt publicity to have the two of you working together.”

“That’s true.” Jiyong put in his professional viewpoint. “Two pretty faces are always gonna get your product more notice.” Seunghyun didn’t look at his senior partner, but he could tell she was grinning. He ignored her.

“I’m not as rich as you, mind,” he told Jiyong, who raised an eyebrow. “I’m not!” protested Seunghyun. “But I’ve been pretty lucky the last couple of years, so I’ll put in as much as I can.”

“It’s not your money we need,” said Jiyong, “it’s your expertise.”

“And it’s not _your_ money we need, it’s your face!” Jiyoo added. Jiyong flashed her his trademark smile; she was right, thought Seunghyun, his brother could surely sell _anything_. Including human rights. “But money certainly helps,” she continued. “So get your hands in your pockets.” She gestured at Jiyong. “You fire up YG and your manager and your accountant.”

“Yes Ma’am.” Jiyoo put out her hand and Jiyong shook it formally, giving her a very graceful bow.

“Oh, he’s adorable. Hey, can we take a picture?” she said.

“You what?” exclaimed Seunghyun. He had never imagined his cool, incisive partner as a fangirl. Jiyoo thrust her phone at him.

“If I show my daughter I had a private meeting with GD, she’ll freak.”

Seunghyun sighed and obligingly took some photos. Jiyong was totally playing it up, hugging her and winking at the camera. When Seunghyun gave the phone back he could tell she had fallen for the younger man; in a strictly motherly way, he hoped.

“I think I’m going to enjoy this project,” said Jiyoo. She gathered up her notes, gave Jiyong another indulgent smile, and finally left.

“You did that on purpose,” Seunghyun accused him, after she had gone.

“Of course.” Jiyong straightened his suit jacket meticulously. “If we’re all gonna work together, I want her to like me!” Seunghyun walked over to him and gave him a sound, approving kiss on the lips.

“She likes you. _I_ like you,” he said softly, “very much right now.” Jiyong blushed the way he always did when Seunghyun praised him in that voice. “You’re amazing,” Seunghyun told him. “And you’re gonna _do_ something amazing; and the whole world is going to know it.”

“You’ll be there with me,” added Jiyong hopefully.

“Always,” said Seunghyun. “And the world will see that too.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong knew what his brother was thinking: Seunghyun thought he’d get bored after a month and dump all the work for the fledgling charity on someone else. It was a fair enough assumption, Jiyong reflected as he tried to follow the explanations about acquiring non-profit status in dumbed-down legalese. Youngbae was nodding along next to him – he had a higher attention span and didn’t drift off like Jiyong did when he got out of his depth – so Seunghyun must be making sense. Seunghyun glanced up mid-sentence, caught the younger man’s expression, and sighed.

“I’ll explain it again in private, later.”

Jiyong scowled at him mildly; he didn’t want the proper charity workers and lawyers in the room to think he was some kind of dimwit, not when this was supposed to be all his big idea. In the end he nodded. He _did_ need extra coaching; this was all so new to him. But whatever Seunghyun privately thought, Jiyong was enjoying it.

“You want to move to the next item?” he asked encouragingly. Seunghyun smiled at him and flipped a page on the agenda. Jiyong beamed back; it was good to see his brother take the lead, and Jiyong was going to make sure he got his share of the limelight whether he liked it or not. Apart from anything else it would make their father proud, and right now Seunghyun could use all the help he could get in that department.

It was even better to see Seunghyun look proud of _him_. Of course the older man felt that way all the time, for what he’d achieved and what he’d endured. But Jiyong especially liked Seunghyun’s gorgeous face to display this pure approbation and affection, with none of the concern or brooding oddity that sometimes darkened his features when he looked at his little brother. Jiyong thought that strange expression would have disappeared now they were back together; he didn’t understand it at all. Sometimes Seunghyun seemed…

“Hey.” Youngbae nudged him. “Quit daydreaming.”

“Item six: the official announcement,” said Seunghyun, with a patient air that told Jiyong he had repeated it once already. “We’ll call a press conference, but you’ll want to consult with YG about who organizes it.”

“You have to announce it with me,” Jiyong told him, beaming. “You’re my partner.” Seunghyun gave him an old-fashioned look that told him not to push his luck, but resigned himself to another fifteen minutes of fame.

“If I must. And think about anything else you want to do.”

“Can we throw a party?” Jiyong woke up properly at that. One of the PR women was nodding sagely.

“…I suppose that’s a good idea,” conceded Seunghyun. “Proceeds to the charity, of course.”

“Seungri can plan it.” Jiyong caught his brother and his bandmate rolling their eyes – their inevitable response. “He’s really good at it!” he insisted. “He’s like Gatsby or something.”

“ _Pretentious_ ,” said Seunghyun, muffled by a sudden cough. Youngbae chortled, but Jiyong knew he would get his own way. Attracting people and keeping them attracted was what he was good at, after all. Seunghyun could deal with the legal mumbo-jumbo; all Jiyong had to do was convince rich people to care about poor ones. And he was _very_ persuasive. How hard could it be?

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was still riding his high three months later, on the night of the official press conference and party. He wasn’t dumb enough to assume that everything would go smoothly with his pet project, and yet…he could feel its momentum. To be sure there had been a steep learning curve, and some hard experiences; their head expert had taken them to view a factory in Cambodia, and the sight of the conditions and the age of the workers had almost made Jiyong sick. He had cried after, into Seunghyun’s shoulder, but it had been good for him: had ignited a passion for the cause itself as well as for proving himself to Seunghyun.

Any difficulties so far had been sorted out by the team of experts Seunghyun and Jiyoo had put together – most of the time Jiyong didn’t even hear about problems until they were already solved – leaving him to drum up donations among his circle of influence and generate buzz. That was what he was good at, and he knew it was working, thanks to both the power of his name and his personal charms. They had managed to partner with the UN’s Ethical Fashion Initiative, and that was just the start. For almost the first time in his life, Jiyong felt the world was looking at him like he was a serious person.

“I’m not going to do the talking this time,” he announced to the gathered press, fans, and celebrities, once he had quickly introduced himself. “I’m just here to support the man who’s made all of this possible; he’ll explain what it is we’re trying to achieve, and how you all can help.” He took a deep breath, tried to show some gravitas but couldn’t help beaming. “As always, he’s the brains to my looks!” Some mild sniggering from the audience. “Please welcome the joint founder and partner behind Make Fashion Count: my amazing big brother, Choi Seunghyun!” God, it felt _great_ to say.

And here came Seunghyun onto the stage, hiding his reluctance and looking so stunning that Jiyong felt himself quite eclipsed but didn’t care at all. The older man strode up to stand beside him, flushed in the face and going even redder before the camera flashes. Seunghyun shot him a disapproving glare. Jiyong stepped aside, effectively forcing his brother into the spotlight. Seunghyun was so tall, so spectacular, and Jiyong was acutely aware of what a contrast they made – how neatly they complemented each other.

“Thanks for at least acknowledging I’m the brains,” Seunghyun said drily as he fished a notecard out of his tuxedo. “Though I don’t know what that says about my looks.” Laughter. Jiyong grinned and slid an arm affectionately around his waist; he wanted a hundred pictures of them like this, and by the sound of cameras going off the press was happy to oblige. Seunghyun gave him another look, then began his speech.

Jiyong listened, excited at the chance to hear his brother talk in public. It was a rarity for him; he supposed people in courtrooms got to hear it all the time. Seunghyun was warm, articulate, passionate as he explained the purpose of the charity, giving Jiyong far more credit than he deserved. That deep voice betrayed none of the nerves he was sure Seunghyun was feeling; he could sense the listeners were hooked. Jiyong found himself gazing up at his brother admiringly.

“In the end,” concluded Seunghyun, who had barely looked at his notes, “what Jiyong and I are trying to do – what M.F.C. is trying to do – is make fashion a truly beautiful thing.” He glanced warmly at the smaller man. “Not just on the surface, but down to its heart.” Jiyong shivered happily. “Making that happen isn’t only important to us – it could transform thousands of lives, and you can help us: Donate, volunteer, follow our official accounts. And _talk_ about these things. Talk, and then act, and help us make change. Thank you,” Seunghyun finished, blushing again under the applause.

“Thank _you_ ,” said Jiyong, and shook Seunghyun’s hand for the cameras before throwing his arms around the older man in pure gratitude. Seunghyun hugged him back solemnly, not letting go until the MC returned to the stage to announce the official photo session. Jiyong felt then that his life could not be any richer.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey,” said the fledgling charity’s events coordinator, sliding into Seunghyun’s office a month or two after that successful and highly embarrassing launch party.

“Hmm?” Seunghyun was trying to catch up with the briefs for his latest court case – being both joint director of M.F.C. and an active lawyer was a tricky balancing act, and he hadn’t quite found his feet yet.

“You read the press statement from Gucci that they’re going to stop using real fur, right?”

“Erm…” Seunghyun stalled. That was Jiyong’s department. Gahui came in and perched herself on his desk. Vivacious, energetic and a social butterfly, she was as beautiful as her name and the perfect person for her job; and, luckily, so openly gay that Jiyong didn’t feel jealous of how chummy she acted with his brother.

“So, they’re appeasing the animal rights people – you really have to now in Europe and the U.S. – and they’re interested in keeping their human rights image clean too.”

“They want to donate? Work with us?” said Seunghyun, back in his comfort zone. “They’re welcome to, once we check them out; find someone to get a rundown of their business practices.”

“I guess they’ll do that.” Gahui handed him a letter in English. “But what they actually _want_ is your brother to model for them.”

“Oh!” Not what he’d been expecting. “Well…I mean, Jiyong’s the director, but he _is_ a model as well. I guess it can’t hurt to ask him.” It might even be good publicity – Jiyong’s face usually was.

“So I can forward this to his manager?”

“Yeah. I’ll give him a heads-up.”

Gahui nodded, held up her hand until Seunghyun gave her a bemused high-five, and strolled out, leaving the bright scent of her perfume behind. Seunghyun sighed and picked up his office phone. How big was this going to get? he wondered as he let it ring. Would Jiyong be able to handle the multiple roles he was taking on? Seunghyun was continually surprised by his brother’s enthusiasm for the project – he was even doing as he’d threatened and starting his own fashion line. It was wonderful to see him excited, of course; but Seunghyun kept thinking he could see signs of stress in his brother. He’d just have to wait and see if it was the productive stress that G-Dragon thrived on, or something more serious that needed to be nipped in the bud.

Seunghyun turned his phone speaker on and went back to work. A minute later Jiyong finally picked up.

“Hi, Tabi.” Seunghyun felt the usual warm glow at his voice, though he sounded tired and rather out of breath. He relayed Gahui’s message and Jiyong promised to think about it. Seunghyun supposed he’d do it: Jiyong breathed couture like he breathed air.

“How was lunch?” asked Seunghyun, to keep him on the line as long as possible.

“Great! She’s great. That was hours ago, we’re filming _Running Man_ now.”

“Oh. Good.”

Jiyong had been seeing Haewon, as he did from time to time; it always made Seunghyun nervous, though he never let on because he was convinced she made his brother happy. He knew Jiyong had disliked her at first on principle, and had then put up with and even started to approve of her as a replacement partner for the older man. But these days Jiyong shared something with her that was totally independent of Seunghyun, and he had no right to interfere. It still left him feeling edgy.

Seunghyun was aware that Haewon was genuinely fond of Jiyong – and that she felt sorry for him. It was easy to pick up on, if you listened to his brother’s reports of their conversations. Probably Jiyong could sense it too; maybe he liked the sympathy factor. Jiyong had told Haewon what had happened to him in the Army, and she was right to feel bad for him – and proud. But Seunghyun suspected his ex’s concern for Jiyong had another reason behind it. He was almost, almost sure that Haewon knew.

“Does she ever say anything about me?” he asked gingerly, forgetting all about the Gucci issue. This was serious.

“You don’t have to feel _so_ guilty, Tabi,” came Jiyong’s breathless voice – he loved _Running Man_ and the presenters cracked him up, but one episode was enough to wear him out just from laughing. “I mean, she’s over you. I think.”

“…I mean about me and you.”

“What? No. Well, she was telling me she saw us on TV for the charity launch and stuff.”

“Okay.”

“She says she knows we’ll go all the way,” said Jiyong happily. Seunghyun made a face at his phone; that was exactly the kind of comment that unnerved him. True, Haewon had never been the type for snide words or sly digs, but that was a sentence that could really be interpreted the wrong way – meaning the accurate way.

“Ahh.”

“Huh? Ah, yeah, I’m coming,” Jiyong told someone in the background. “Gotta go, Tabi,” he said, apparently bored with his brother’s random questions. “Wait up for me! I have to vet your outfit for the big day next week.”

“Love you,” said Seunghyun quietly, and heard the dial tone. Ah. Yes, the wedding. Youngbae would be the first and closest of Jiyong’s friends to get married, and the prospect was taking up a lot of his brother’s mental space; in Seunghyun’s opinion, it could have been better timed. Jiyong was delighted, of course, but coming on top of everything else it was a lot. And then there was the whole symbolism of it: a monumental step towards adulthood that Jiyong could never take – not if he remained with Seunghyun, anyway. A step that had also been denied Jiyong’s mother; thinking about it must bring up memories, and maybe even resentment.

Then again, perhaps Seunghyun was the only one having these thoughts: overwork, and Haewon, and marriage…and, of course, the terrible things he had done that never really left his mind. He hoped it _was_ just him.

Seunghyun rubbed his thumb distractedly across his phone, and worried about the future.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong sat in the front pew of the church and cried as he watched his oldest friend tie the knot. He felt Seunghyun’s arm slide around his shoulders, and leaned in. He wanted to explain that he was welling up because he was happy – it had nothing to do with being maudlin – but he kept his mouth shut. Of _course_ he wished he could also announce to the world that here was the person he would spend his life with. Of course he was envious of Youngbae, who had managed an exemplary military service and was now uncomplicatedly blissful with the woman he loved. But Jiyong was a more practical man than perhaps Seunghyun realised, and he knew he would never have such a chance. Would he?

Seunghyun’s grip on his shoulder tightened.

“You okay?” asked Jiyong under his breath. He tore his attention away from the altar, where the officiant was placing Hyorin’s hand in Youngbae’s, and glanced up at Seunghyun. His brother’s jaw was tight, his eyes huge. Seunghyun saw him looking and nodded shortly. Jiyong didn’t have time now to figure out what was up with him, so he turned back to the ceremony and watched them exchange rings. It was quite beautiful. Jiyong sniffed, Youngbae’s mother silently passed him a tissue, and the wedding went on.

“Your turn next!” said Jiyong’s father hopefully, over the banquet table at the reception. He had known Youngbae almost as long as Jiyong had; obviously he regarded his son’s bandmate as a better role model than Seunghyun, whose jaw tightened at the comment. Seunghyun turned aside deliberately and began drinking with Youngbae’s brother.

“They do look lovely, don’t they,” replied Jiyong as evasively as possible.

“You’d look even better.” Jiyong’s dad gestured to the table filled with Hyorin’s attractive friends, subtle as a brick – he’d managed to get tipsy already. “You just need to pick someone.”

“I’m nowhere near ready for that. I’m still _enjoying_ myself, Dad. And why shouldn’t I?” Jiyong wasn’t about to come out and say it as bluntly as Seunghyun had: that he would never get married. The man deserved a bit of a break before another son disappointed him.

“Flighty,” said his father, but he didn’t sound angry. He leaned across the table to pat Jiyong’s cheek. “Just like your mother.” That made Jiyong smile. “The amount of persuading it took for her to settle down with me…”

Jiyong knew Seunghyun was listening and was still in a very odd mood; probably the last thing he wanted to hear about was Jiyong’s mother. But the younger man did, so he crinkled his eyes at his father encouragingly.

“Ah well,” his dad said, and sighed, finished his glass of champagne, and peered up the long table to the happy couple at its head. “When will they do the speeches? I want to dance!”

“Seriously?”

“It’s been a few years,” acknowledged the older man merrily, “but I’ve still got it. And look at all these young ladies!” Jiyong shook his head.

“Mind your stent!” His father just pulled a face at him. Jiyong gave up and touched Seunghyun’s hand, drawing his brother’s attention back to him; he wanted some moral support before he gave his speech.

 

Thanks to Seunghyun’s coaching, it went off smoothly; he even got some laughs. Now Seungri was performing the wedding song, a ballad version of a tune Jiyong had written for him – it was almost criminally cheesy, but in this setting it seemed lovely. The younger man tipped him a sweet smile mid-note, as usual with a tiny glint reminiscent of their shared encounter. Jiyong rolled his eyes but grinned back. He looked around the room, at his friends with their partners and Youngbae with his new wife, and felt…not old, but grown-up in a way nothing in the past had made him feel before. There was a bit of melancholy, sure; but more than that, an urge to take some undefined step towards the future. He wondered what it might be, and looked forward to finding out.

“You wanna dance?” said Seunghyun, popping up beside him as Seungri finished and a faster song kicked in. Jiyong nodded and took his wrist. Whatever the next step was, he thought, looking up at Seunghyun’s intent, strangely solemn face, he wouldn’t be taking it alone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Newsflash (or not!), I suck at both writing speeches and thinking up brand names, so I kinda skimmed over that whole bit. If anyone has a cooler name for a fashion charity I'd totally change it XD
> 
> Next chapter: Jiyong finally addresses Seunghyun's weirdness.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun has another stab at an old job, and surprises Jiyong in a number of life-changing ways.

“Another modelling job?” asked Seunghyun, kicking back in his chair and observing his brother carefully. “You sure you’ve got time? Your single’s coming out next week.”

“I’ve always got time for diamonds,” Jiyong informed him with a sleepy grin. “And they’re Fair Trade so it’s more publicity for us.”

“I don’t want you wearing yourself out.”

“You keep saying that lately,” Jiyong said, looking somewhat mystified. Seunghyun knew he did, he couldn’t seem to help himself. And the oftener he said it, the more he was starting to think this wasn’t Jiyong’s problem at all, but his own. Ever since the wedding it had been bugging him: the worry that he couldn’t guarantee Jiyong the happiness Youngbae had promised his wife in his vows. After all, how could he, stifled with sin and secrets as he was? It seemed stupid when Seunghyun saw his brother smiling like this; but what about a year, ten years from now? How could _he_ ensure Jiyong’s development and gratification?

“I just want to take care of you, baby,” he said lamely. Jiyong opened his mouth at that, but shut it again after a thoughtful pause. Seunghyun inhaled carefully; he knew Jiyong was still curious about his past strangeness, and sometimes it seemed inevitable that he would ask. Seunghyun didn’t know _what_ he would tell him if he did.

“Well, pull your weight on the shoot and I won’t get tired, will I,” the younger man said instead.

“Eh?” Seunghyun exclaimed. “Do I have to come babysit you?”

“You don’t get it,” said Jiyong, smiling. “They want us both. For the campaign.” Seunghyun stared at him, his attention finally dragged away from his brooding.

“That’s ridiculous! I haven’t modelled in nearly a decade. Why would they want _that_?”

Jiyong came round the desk and sat himself down in Seunghyun’s lap like his brother was his own private armchair. The older man glanced at the door, then slid an arm around his waist.

“This is why, stupid,” Jiyong told him, running one finger down Seunghyun’s sculpted cheek. “You’re even prettier now than you were then.” Seunghyun snorted. “But that’s not the point; advertising has to stand out, and it’s such a novelty having both heads of the charity modelling its client’s products. And I’m famous, and we’re hot, and we’re brothers! This is like their PR dream come true.”

“It’s a bit…undignified,” said Seunghyun dubiously. “I’m meant to be a reputable lawyer!”

“Well, ask Jiyoo.” Jiyong gave him a smirk. “Bet she wouldn’t think so.” Seunghyun sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to look enthusiastic.

“Modelling was always so _boring_.”

“Not this time, it won’t be.”

“Oh no?”

“No.” Jiyong leaned down and kissed him. “This time you’ll be with _me_.”

 

The studio was dressed to look like a Prohibition-era mansion, all Art Deco furniture and crystal and illicit champagne – Seunghyun half expected Seungri to pop out of a wardrobe any minute. He and Jiyong were put into matching tuxedos and then strategically dishevelled. Seunghyun endured having his hair fiddled with while his brother was given a beautifully sleek 1920s marcel wave; it suited Jiyong’s androgynous features very well, and Seunghyun was hard-pressed not to stare.

“We’ll put you in the jewellery,” the director explained as the stylists gave them a final check; Seunghyun hated all the fussing, but he could see Jiyong basking in it calmly next to him. “And then you’ll take it in turns to rob each other.”

“What’s the concept?” asked Jiyong, frowning.

“It goes with the copy.” The director punched up a rough sketch on his tablet. “They’re going with the tagline ‘Fair Trade is no robbery’,” he said in English. Seunghyun laughed.

“Not bad.” Jiyong looked at him questioningly. “It’s a play on an English phrase,” explained Seunghyun, translating it. “Using the brand name.” Jiyong nodded.

“And because they’re planning to run the ads in high-end foreign magazines, they want an edgy look,” continued the director. “Something that won’t be out of place among the usual couture brands. Hence the old Hollywood vibe.”

“Okay,” said Jiyong. “Bring on the bling!”

The head of Wardrobe walked them over to the corner with the security guys, who opened several cases to reveal all the ethical gold and precious stones Jiyong’s heart could desire. Seunghyun saw his brother’s pretty eyes gleam like a magpie’s, and smiled.

“We’ll give you the men’s pieces,” one of the stylists told Seunghyun. “Simple, elegant: watch, cufflinks, ring.” She turned to Jiyong, who was still ogling the diamond case. “You’re smaller, so we’ll have you model the women’s styles; only we’ll go completely over the top, extravagant. The GD persona can take it!” Jiyong grinned.

“Sure, pile it on.”

They started with Jiyong, loading him with diamond ear studs, bracelets, necklaces, rings, until he glittered and shone like a Christmas tree. Seunghyun thought it would have looked tacky beyond belief on anyone but his brother. Jiyong arranged himself in an ornate dining chair and after a moment’s hesitation allowed himself to be tied to it, his slim wrists fastened by ropes to the wooden arms. Seunghyun felt his eyes widen; it was an extremely alluring sight. Jiyong leaned his head against the back of the chair and smirked up at him silently until the photographer was ready to take some solo shots.

It was always intriguing to watch Jiyong model. Of course Seunghyun was biased in his opinion, but his brother really did have the most versatile face: the sweetness of it when you saw it straight-on, that pure oval shape and cute cheeks, which transformed into an edgy, high-fashion vision when he turned his sharp profile to the camera. Seunghyun was aware of his own good looks, but when it came to this he had nothing on Jiyong.

“Here you go.” Someone handed Seunghyun an old replica pistol when Jiyong was done smouldering up at the camera. “Now go ahead and rob him.” Seunghyun stood there feeling stupid, which was his invariable sensation while modelling.

“…I think he might need a bit more help than that,” Jiyong called. Seunghyun sighed. “Come here, Tabi.” Seunghyun approached the chair awkwardly, and another assistant gave him a handful of gold and diamonds. “You just took that off me,” Jiyong explained, looking completely comfortable interpreting the director’s vision. “Come closer. Put that thing under my chin.” With some trepidation Seunghyun bent to press the barrel of the toy weapon beneath Jiyong’s pointed chin. The younger man raised his head as if Seunghyun was forcing him. “Now, like…” Seunghyun could see Jiyong thinking as he stared down into his beautiful face. “Grab a couple of my necklaces with your other hand. It’ll show them off.”

“Like you’re going to tear them off him,” added the director. “Just…don’t, obviously!” An assistant came and selected two of the necklaces around Jiyong’s slender throat and looped them over Seunghyun’s fingers. Jiyong leaned into him as he tugged, head tipping back further to arch his neck elegantly. “Freeze just like that!” the director ordered him, while the photographer directed the assistant to adjust the jewellery to best catch the light. “Look pissed.”

Seunghyun blinked as Jiyong’s face dropped into a photogenic variant of its old murderous expression; it was almost nostalgic.

“And you,” continued the director. “Push the gun harder, pull the necklaces tighter. Try it with a smile first: you’ve got your target pinned, he can’t do anything, and you’re about to get rich!”

Seunghyun gave it his best, and the shoot commenced. When the director and cameraman were done being frustrated by Seunghyun’s incompetence, and then amazed once they saw the previews, the two models were given a break and switched round. Seunghyun was stripped of his tuxedo jacket, dressed in a minimum of beautiful, simple jewellery, and pushed into the chair. They tied his wrists to it.

“Ready, GD?” asked the director.

“Oh, yes.” Immediately Seunghyun felt more comfortable: Jiyong was going to take control, and he could just sit here and watch his brother dazzle. Jiyong approached him, gave him a critical look, then reached out and pulled his bow tie undone in one smooth movement, flicking open two of the buttons at his collar. “It’s better, right?” the younger man said to the director, who nodded.

“Very sexy. Get the female customers to sit up and take notice of the men’s range, too.”

“That’s what I thought.” Jiyong gave Seunghyun a smile that sent a spark of thoroughly unprofessional excitement down his spine. He shut his eyes for a moment; the last thing he needed now was to get _distracted_.

“You want the gun?” asked the director, evidently trusting Jiyong a whole lot more than he had Seunghyun. Jiyong thought for a minute, then shook his head.

“Untie his near hand, can you? The one with the watch and ring. How about if he’s managed to break free?” Jiyong suggested, as an assistant did as he’d asked. “I’m right in the middle of stripping the bling off him when he grabs me.”

“Try it.”

Seunghyun sat there like a mannequin as Jiyong put his foot up on the chair seat and leaned in towards him, purloined jewellery sticking out of his back pocket.

“You, grab his wrist,” the director instructed Seunghyun. The bigger man obeyed, feeling Jiyong’s pulse beneath his fingers. “Mm. No. Try his collar instead. Make sure we can still see the ring.”

“You don’t have to be that careful,” Jiyong told him, as Seunghyun folded his fingers around his brother’s bowtie. “You’re scared and you’re really angry!” He lowered his voice and gave Seunghyun the old bratty smile that used to drive him nuts. “Remember that night, Tabi?” he said softly. “The first time, when I punched you in the face and then you grabbed me…I thought you were gonna kill me!”

Seunghyun swallowed. He remembered, all right, his old hatred of his half-brother and that small body electric against his own as he grabbed a handful of his shirt and hauled him closer.

“Better!” said the director. “GD, hold on to his arm like you’re trying to pull him off. Put a watch on that hand,” the man told one of the stylists. “That’ll give us the matching pair.” Jiyong waited while they clasped the smaller gold watch around his wrist and tugged his shirt cuff back to show it off. Seunghyun kept staring up at him as the photographer began shooting.

“You think you’ve got me,” murmured Jiyong tauntingly under his breath, black eyes shining dangerously and head tilted at the most camera-friendly angle. “You think I can’t get away. But I’m gonna take you for everything you’ve got…!”

Seunghyun glared at him; he was starting to feel worryingly excited: his brother’s proximity and his teasing little voice, it was really too risky. But good God, Jiyong was beautiful! Seunghyun was only too happy to be at his mercy. Jiyong grinned, then dropped his face into an intense, triumphant expression. Seunghyun swallowed.

“Great!” said the photographer at last, and not a moment too soon for Seunghyun. “I think we’ve got it.” Jiyong untied Seunghyun, then carefully removed the older man’s jewels and returned them to the cases while the director and photographer checked the photos. Once they were given the nod an assistant led them back to the dressing room and left them there to change.

As soon as the door shut Jiyong grabbed Seunghyun and yanked his head down to kiss him, hard and quick. The older man realised his brother was as wound up as himself, and the second kiss went on much longer. Seunghyun knew how dangerous, how stupid it was, but all the same it took him a good twenty seconds to gather up his fortitude. When they broke apart Jiyong’s perfect face was flushed and he was breathing fast. Seunghyun still wanted to devour him.

“…When we get back to my place,” whispered Jiyong in his sweet, erotic voice, “I’ll put on my diamonds again and you can strip me for real…”

Seunghyun thought giddily that the whole ad campaign was worth it just to hear that.

 

* * *

 

 

A month later Seunghyun received the proofs of the ads that Fair Trade would run in the magazines. He opened the image files, blanched, and immediately called Jiyong.

“Have you seen them?!” he demanded, when he could finally get through.

“Yeah,” said Jiyong, sounding enthusiastic. “Aren’t they amazing?!”

“That’s one word,” said Seunghyun darkly. “I mean, yours is fine, you look spectacular.”

“So do you.”

“I look like a bloody idiot, as always.” Seunghyun had never fully approved of any photo of himself, but there was no denying Jiyong made the ad pop. It would go over a double page spread; Seunghyun’s discerning eye approved of the design and colour, which was old-fashioned and fabulously opulent. Jiyong’s blonde hair and jewels sparkled against the dark decadence of the room and their tuxedos, his posture effortlessly graceful and defiant. It was close up enough that you could see the two necklaces caught in Seunghyun’s fingers, but wide enough to show the bracelets on Jiyong’s bound wrists. The tagline overlaid the back of Seunghyun’s head, with the Fair Trade logo in the bottom right corner. It was an arresting picture.

“It’s the second one,” continued Seunghyun. “I mean…fuck.”

“It’s great.” Jiyong’s voice was approving. “I think it’s my favourite picture of you, actually.”

“I can tell!” exclaimed Seunghyun, looking at it on his screen. “That’s the problem, baby, _anyone_ will be able to!”

“It is quite daring,” acknowledged Jiyong.

Seunghyun exhaled deeply. The second version of the ad was the pose Jiyong had come up with: Seunghyun’s hand at his throat, Jiyong grabbing his wrist. This photo was a tighter close-up, stopping below Jiyong’s raised arm. Jiyong was leaning in as if pulled by Seunghyun’s fist in his shirt, and looked beautiful and dangerous as a lynx, all cheekbones as usual. Seunghyun was gazing up at him avidly; the older man had thought at the time that he was making an ‘angry’ face. But turned out Seunghyun was a terrible actor, because beneath the lowered eyebrows was a glint of something else, something that created an uncomfortable tension in the picture. He knew exactly what it was.

“ _Daring_?” he echoed. “Christ, Jiyong, I look like I wanna throw you on your back and fuck you!”

“…I think only you would read into it that far,” said Jiyong. “But it _is_ edgy. That’s what they wanted, that’s what we gave ‘em, and this is the one they picked.”

“It’s fucking dangerous is what it is!”

“This is the kind of ad that’ll get noticed,” said Jiyong, dismissing his brother’s concerns glibly. “It’s good for the brand, it’s good for our campaign, especially overseas.”

“If it was just two guys,” countered Seunghyun, “that would be ‘edgy’. This is _scandalous_!”

“If the company really thought that, they wouldn’t have picked this picture. I think it’s just right.”

“Ugh.”

“Let it go, Tabi,” advised Jiyong. “Let the fangirls go crazy, it’s not gonna matter. This is going to be good publicity.”

“…All right,” said Seunghyun. He put the phone down and sighed. It bothered him, how little Jiyong seemed to worry about displaying their intimacy – and this coming from Seunghyun, who was still bitterly envious of Youngbae’s wedding ring. He had something he wanted to discuss with Jiyong, but now it would have to wait until people forgot about this damn photo. He wondered if his brother would still think the ad was a good idea once he’d heard what Seunghyun had to say next.

 

* * *

 

 

The Fair Trade ad came out in _Harper’s Bazaar_ and all the glossies, made a splash that Jiyong’s publicist and the charity PR team played to the utmost advantage, and life carried on almost as normal. But the idea that Seunghyun had had buzzing around his head for months now wouldn’t go away. Seunghyun didn’t necessarily think it was a great idea anymore, but it was certainly insistent, and eventually his brother picked up that there was something going on.

“Something on your mind?” asked Jiyong one night. Seunghyun had thrown him an impromptu wine tasting and he was slightly buzzed but no less intuitive.

“What d’you mean?”

Jiyong leaned back against the neutral rented couch – they were in Seunghyun’s temporary new apartment near his office, and the older man hadn’t bothered decorating properly.

“You’ve been very…pensive,” said Jiyong, choosing the word carefully. He reached out to smooth Seunghyun’s hair back. “I’m concerned you’re putting too much into the project; I only want you to do as much as you can manage, you have so much other stuff on! I don’t like to see you stressing about…well, anything.”

“I’m not overworked,” Seunghyun assured him. “Or anything else.” He knew Jiyong was starting to worry about him, so he was trying his best not to lapse into any weird moods. It was hard sometimes – stress about work and the future was one thing, but Seunghyun hadn’t forgotten what he’d done: it came back to haunt him every time Jiyong looked at him so trustingly.

“You haven’t even put your stamp on this place!” Jiyong gestured around the apartment. “You love design, Tabi, you’d normally be ripping off the wallpaper. And you haven’t put up any of the new paintings.”

“All right.” Seunghyun smiled at him anxiously; he supposed this was as good a time as any to share his idea, seeing as Jiyong was skirting so close to the edge of it anyway. “I _have_ been thinking about something, since we got back together.”

“…Is it bad?”

“Not…really. That’s something we’ll have to decide for ourselves, if you like it.”

“What ‘it’?!” said Jiyong impatiently. Seunghyun patted his knee and shuffled closer.

“I love you,” he told the younger man needlessly, just to see him smile. “I was horrible without you, and if I could go without letting you out of my sight another second, I would. But failing that…I want us to live together.” Jiyong blinked.

“We basically do,” he pointed out. “You’re either at mine or I’m over here.”

“Well, yeah. But there’s all the commuting, having to leave if someone’s coming over, you know? We’re apart so often as it is, what with my work and you off round the country and overseas half the time. I want you every minute I can have you.”

Seunghyun suspected it was more than that, though he didn’t let on: he wanted to feel some tangible mark of Jiyong’s ownership on him. He knew it could never be as overt as a wedding ring – Youngbae was a lucky bastard – but _something_ : a stable foundation they could build on.

“You’re adorable,” said Jiyong happily. “So, what? You want us to rent a place together? _Buy_ a place?”

“We could do that,” agreed Seunghyun. “Or we could build something that’s all our own. We find the land, design the house, everything.” Jiyong was looking at him with his mouth slightly open.

“I want to,” Jiyong said as soon as he’d stopped talking. “Of course I want to!”

“There’re problems,” Seunghyun warned him. “That’s why I didn’t bring it up before.”

“Such as?”

“We’ve put a lot of capital into the charity. Building the kind of house that’s gonna satisfy both of us will cost a fortune.”

“I’ve got one,” said Jiyong easily. “Several. And you must be doing well or you wouldn’t even be thinking about this!” Seunghyun shrugged. Jiyong was right about the money; Seunghyun was wealthy by anyone’s standards and his brother was a millionaire many times over. The money wasn’t the real problem.

“The other thing is…” he began. “It’s your reputation.” Jiyong frowned. Seunghyun didn’t want to remind him of all they had done to protect the younger man from having tragedy and scandal destroy his career. Jiyong had gone through enough in his short life, and Seunghyun didn’t want anything to jeopardise his returning peace of mind.

“How could two siblings sharing a house affect my reputation?” asked Jiyong. “Everyone knows we’re inseparable, with the charity and all.”

“It’s one thing to work together,” Seunghyun explained worriedly. “And it’s one thing to rent a place together. But building some palatial house sends a pretty clear message: that we want to live together forever.”

“So?”

“So, we’re both at the age where we should be getting married. We’re totally eligible, especially now your bandmate’s set the precedent; you’re always saying on TV how you want to. I _know_ that’s all a front, but if we don’t…” Seunghyun exhaled darkly. “People will start to talk.”

“Talk about _what_?”

“…There’re already rumours about us, baby,” Seunghyun told him. He didn’t believe Jiyong could be this naïve about the power of appearances. “Don’t you read your own fan sites?”

“Of course not,” said Jiyong. “Not since the Army.” Seunghyun sighed.

“It just comes up on Knetz every now and then: how close we are. Are we really brothers? Are we lovers? Are you queer? It gets squashed almost straightaway, of course, but that Fair Trade ad did not help!”

“Let them say what they want.” Jiyong raised his chin stubbornly. “It’s all fantasy.” He took Seunghyun’s hand. “I wanna live with you, Tabi, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“You’d care,” argued Seunghyun. “If anyone found out…or if rumors got to the point where you couldn’t work anymore!” Jiyong had a _vocation_ , Seunghyun knew that; he couldn’t imagine how miserable his brother would be if he was forced out of the spotlight forever. “Everything you’ve done for your career, and you don’t _care_? You love it more than anything!”

“Not more than you.”

“But…what would we tell people?”

“Whatever you want. Everyone knows I’m eccentric anyway. We’ll throw a few parties, get some super-hot women seen around the place, and as far as anyone’s concerned it’ll be the Korean Playboy mansion!”

“That’s not gonna make Dad feel any better,” said Seunghyun, intent on exploring every problematic angle of this far too tempting idea. Jiyong squeezed his fingers.

“It’ll make him feel better than thinking you’re gonna live alone your entire life.”

“And my mom will hate it.”

“She hates everything about me.” Seunghyun cupped Jiyong’s cheek in his free hand and kissed him. “It’s never stopped you before.”

“And it won’t stop me now,” murmured Seunghyun, running his thumb adoringly along his brother’s fine jaw. “I’m just…making sure we think things through.”

“Let’s not think anymore, Tabi.” Jiyong leaned into his touch, his voice clear and intent. “We thought too hard about pleasing other people last time, and look what happened: we got hurt, Haewon got hurt, Dad as well. For the rest of my life I wanna please _you_.” Seunghyun sighed, but couldn’t stop his face from breaking into a smile. Jiyong made him happier than he had any right to be.

“All right. Let’s build a house.”

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong had great hopes for their new project. Ever since Youngbae’s wedding he had been casting around for the next step on his journey towards maturity. The charity had been a start, but this…this was a rite of passage he could share with Seunghyun alone.

And it was more than that: not only was this house going to be spectacular and opulent enough for a palace – his side of it, anyway, he was sure Seunghyun’s would essentially be an art gallery with a bed in it – it was going to be _home_. Jiyong had very specific connotations of what that word meant. It was formed partly with memories of his early life, the muzzy images of childhood and his mother; partly from the places he had shared with Seunghyun as an adult – as lovers. The final piece was the feeling of that summer when he was sixteen: the safety of their father’s house and everything that went with it. He wondered if it was possible to recreate all that.

Seunghyun seemed slightly aghast when Jiyong described the specificity of the feeling and his vagueness about what such a house would actually look like. But his brother loved a challenge; he commissioned several architects to come up with prototype plans, and in their spare time they began looking for a place to put the house while Jiyong tried to narrow down what it was he wanted.

He was doing it now: trying to recapture the warmth of their old home. He’d been round all the rooms, remembering, but it was proving difficult. Jiyong was inclined to blame their father for this. He wasn’t helping, anyway.

They were spending the afternoon with him and – certainly his partner by now – Ms. Won. Their father invited them over a lot, even more often since Seunghyun had broken up with Haewon and Jiyong had refused to talk some sense into him. If Jiyong didn’t know better he’d think the older man was lonely for company. But he _did_ know: their father was engaged in a stubborn fight against the urge to resent his children, for jeopardizing their own futures and spoiling his legacy.

Jiyong had seen what their dad had been like with Seunghyun in the weeks following his announcement that he would never get married; he had felt the icy brush of it himself, and could only guess how his brother must feel. But now their father was obviously making an effort to come to terms with it. So he invited them round, and Jiyong came whenever he could. To his dismay he had found that the family home didn’t feel quite like it used to, now that the glow of the man’s approval had turned cool. Perhaps it would never feel the same again.

“How’s the real estate search going?” enquired Ms. Won after lunch. They always ended up sitting in the big formal living room when she was there; Jiyong couldn’t tell if it was their dad showing off for her, or whether she was just impressed with the space.

“Okay,” said Jiyong. “But it’s harder than I thought to find a big enough bit of land convenient to the city.”

“We could build you a helipad,” Seunghyun suggested with a smirk.

Jiyong caught their father’s surreptitious…not quite a sigh, but a look. He had acted supportive when his sons had told him they intended to live together – with the added dig that if one of them did get married they could always move out – but clearly he did not consider it a hopeful prospect.

“Can you imagine the permits I’d have to get to land a helicopter on the YG building?” Jiyong replied, grinning. “It _would_ be totally cool, though.”

“You two,” commented their father in a cheerful voice that Jiyong mistrusted. “It’s funny to hear you: real estate, permits, then helicopters… It’s hard to decide if I’m listening to grown-ups or a couple of kids!”

“We _are_ both as far as you’re concerned,” Seunghyun pointed out, pouring Ms. Won more coffee.

Their father murmured something that Jiyong suspected was uncomplimentary into his law journal, missing Seunghyun’s eye roll. Jiyong gave his brother a subtle kick.

“But speaking of when you were younger,” said the older man, happily recalling a segue into a topic that wouldn’t start an argument, “I had drinks with my friend the Colonel the other day. You wouldn’t remember him, probably; he was Sergeant when I was in service. Retired now, but he keeps up with the news.”

“Oh?” Jiyong wasn’t the least bit interested in news from the Army; if he could, he would never think about it again. Since Seunghyun had come back to him the flashbacks and dreams had decreased a whole bunch, and he didn’t need reminding. But he couldn’t say so, and their dad did love telling stories.

“Our old unit’s had quite the run of bad luck this past year,” their father said. To Jiyong’s surprise he sensed Seunghyun go very still beside him. “They had terrific storms up there last winter, quite a few soldiers were injured.”

“Not surprised,” commented Seunghyun, sounding perfectly normal. “Even when I was there the whole barracks needed overhauling.”

“But that’s not the juicy part.” The older man leaned forward. “According to the gossip. The things that have happened! If you count the ones who transferred to different units and the ones who retired from service…”

“Dad,” said Jiyong patiently, “what’re you talking about?”

“At least four or five men in the last year.” Their father lowered his voice to a spooky kind of tone. “Maybe more. One in prison for the most disgraceful things; two outright dead. And one just… _disappeared_.”

“Are we at summer camp or something?” asked Jiyong. “Do we all have to tell one?” At the same time he heard Seunghyun say quickly:

“Let’s not talk about this kind of stuff in front of Ms. Won. It’s not nice.”

“Oh, I’m pretty ghoulish,” the petite woman assured him, nose in her coffee cup. Jiyong could feel his brother’s discomfort, even across the sofa cushion between them, and wondered why.

“I’m just saying,” continued their father in the same voice, twinkling his eyes at them, “you boys should take care!”

“…Explain,” said Jiyong with a sigh as he paused for effect. The younger man glanced across at Seunghyun, and found him staring at their father intently. Jiyong frowned; Seunghyun’s fingers were gripping the arm of the sofa.

“Only that you knew them,” revealed their dad. “You must have known _of_ them, anyway, between you; they were all serving when you two were, in the same barracks. Maybe even in your _troop_.”

Right about then Jiyong felt something strange click on inside him. It wasn’t fear – the story was way too vague and dumb to be scary – but it was uncomfortable. Maybe it came in response to the way Seunghyun had suddenly gone pale. Or perhaps it was connected to himself, some vague foreboding in his subconscious: the precursor to something – or the echo. He swallowed.

“So, what happened to them?” prompted Ms. Won, who obviously agreed that the story was rather wishy-washy in its details. “Do you know who they were?”

“Yeah,” agreed Jiyong, hoping to dispel the feeling. “You can’t just say we knew them and then not tell us anything!” Beside him Seunghyun crossed his legs. Jiyong caught a glimpse of him looking studiedly calm, though the small tic in his jaw showed he was gritting his teeth.

“Not much detail. The Colonel’s getting on, and this all came to him second-hand.” Their father mused to himself for a moment. “The one who disappeared…well, that’s a complete mystery; he used to be a fairly prominent troublemaker – you know, the type who think military service is a fundamental injustice. But according to his family he just fell off the grid. The guy in prison, it was to do with a sex crime – made all the papers, apparently.”

“Oh my!” said Ms. Won, suitably shocked.

Jiyong shifted uncomfortably; that hit a bit too close to home, and the disquiet inside him spiked another level. He felt rather than saw Seunghyun’s head turn to look at him.

“The men who died,” the older man went on. “Not sure about the first one because he’d already been discharged; all the Colonel heard was that it wasn’t natural. But the second, they found the body down in the city. It’d be almost a year ago, now, but for some reason it’s taken this long for the news to make its way to the higher-ups. He was a regular, so it must have happened while he was on furlough.”

“He was murdered?” queried Ms. Won. Their father nodded.

“Had his throat cut.” He lowered his voice even further. “For starters. The police said it was probably gang-related…”

“And?” said Jiyong breathlessly as he lapsed into silence again. “What was his name?!”

“I’m thinking.” Jiyong stared at him impatiently. “Jin? Kee?” The younger man shook his head, shrugging. “No!” exclaimed their father triumphantly. “Lee. Lee Sejun.”

Jiyong heard Seunghyun inhale sharply. A bare moment later he was struck by a sensation very like déjà vu. He had felt it before, in this house, with these people: _revelation_ , followed by a disorienting pang of nausea. He couldn’t tell what it meant yet but it was coming, it was _coming_ and he had to get out of this room before it –

“‘Scuse me,” he managed hurriedly, and strode past them.

“Ahh, he _did_ know him,” he heard his father say solemnly to Seunghyun. “How about you?”

Jiyong banged the door behind him before he could hear the answer to that.

 

It took Seunghyun a good five minutes to find Jiyong. He had followed him directly, of course – was grateful to get out of that room before his own face betrayed him. The expression he had seen on Jiyong’s horrified him.

Jiyong was in the garden, partially hidden from the house by the flower trellises. He had turned as white as Seunghyun felt. The bigger man wondered if he had thrown up.

“Are you all right?” he said, wanting to go and hold him but not daring.

“Lee Sejun,” said Jiyong weakly. “Oh my god, I _remember_! That voice…” He leaned against the trellis and put his head down, still looking like he might be sick. “I remember almost all of it now, I… And the others…I know what they sounded like, I remember what they _did_ …” He took a shuddering breath. “Everything but their names.” He looked up at Seunghyun, and in that familiar gaze the older man could read something new: wariness. “…Do _you_ know, Tabi?”

There was a long pause.

“…I can tell you their names,” said Seunghyun. He felt his jaw clench, and found he had folded his arms over his chest; an act of self-preservation, maybe, or to distance his brother from what he was about to learn. Jiyong froze, then slowly straightened up and stared right at him. He looked very small and infinitely precious, and Seunghyun didn’t regret a single thing he had done for him. He just regretted what was going to come next.

“Why can you tell me?” Jiyong asked quietly, and Seunghyun suspected he already had an inkling of what he was about to say. After all, Seunghyun had almost told him once – the night Jiyong had broken down and confessed he couldn’t do without him. And Jiyong wasn’t stupid.

“Because it was _them_ ,” he admitted. “The streak of bad luck Dad was talking about: there were four of them, and I can tell you who each of them was. And what happened to them, and why.”

“Bad luck?” whispered Jiyong, his black eyes very wide.

“Justice,” corrected Seunghyun, even more softly. It was a relief to say it, such a relief, though he knew he was being selfish. He’d managed to repress the urge to show off to his brother for so long! But now…

A visible shiver ran over Jiyong. The younger man remained silent, biting pensively at the edge of his thumbnail as he stared at his brother. Seunghyun kept quiet as well, waiting for Jiyong’s verdict; whatever judgement Jiyong made, he deserved it.

“How did you know?” asked Jiyong at last. He had taken a step back to rest against the rose pagoda.

“The smell that made you sick,” confessed Seunghyun. “I knew it too, as soon as you said it. Don’t you remember? _Spaghetti and meatballs_. His dad ran an Italian restaurant, and I was around him all the time. Lee was my friend.” He swallowed and added, “…I thought. From there it wasn’t too hard to find the others.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He saw Jiyong shake his head reflexively; the younger man loathed that phrase. “And I didn’t want to make you complicit!”

“ _Why_ did you do it?” Jiyong was hammering through the questions.

“Because they deserved it,” said Seunghyun plainly. And then, in a voice that couldn’t disguise the horror and shame he had felt: “And because it was _my fault_.”

Jiyong looked at him incredulously, and Seunghyun found himself explaining all about Lee and his horrible obsession, and how it was Seunghyun’s pride in his brother that had brought Jiyong to their attention in the first place. After a while he had to sit down; reliving the memories of how he had felt and what he had done made him quite nauseous. He could see Jiyong staring at him, and the changing shades of darkness in his eyes. Seunghyun bet he was recalling the times his big brother had been absent, distant, or just full-on crazy. He wondered if Jiyong would blame him for that, too; it would be perfectly reasonable if he did.

“…And that’s it,” he said at last. “That’s why.” He shook his head. “I had no authority to do it, you didn’t ask me to, and the whole time I was chasing them I was making you unhappy.”

“Jesus Christ, Tabi,” murmured Jiyong, dropping down heavily on the bench beside him. “I _didn’t_ ask you to. I didn’t _need_ it: I put myself back together, didn’t I?!”

“…I’m the one who needed it,” the older man admitted. “I told myself I was doing it for _you_ ; and maybe I was.” He paused, recalling the pain and hatred he had felt once he knew their names – and especially when he’d learned about Lee. “But _I_ couldn’t have lived with myself if I did nothing.”

“Seunghyun…”

“I’m so sorry.” Seunghyun sighed grimly. “I never meant to talk about it or put all this on you. I didn’t know Dad was going to bring it up or that you’d put two and two together or… So: whatever you wanna do, I’ll go along with your decision.”

“Are you sorry you did it?”

“No,” said Seunghyun, and smiled bitterly.

“Then neither am I,” said Jiyong, and astonished him by linking arms with him.

“…You do get it, don’t you?” pressed Seunghyun, turning to try and read his face. Jiyong looked pale and shocked, but not frightened. “I had someone killed.”

“For me,” added Jiyong flatly, with a shiver that spoke to his recovered memories. He was quiet for a moment. “Nothing in my life has hurt me like those men, and nobody would do anything for me.” He squeezed Seunghyun’s arm. “But you did. Even though it was reckless, and _stupid_. Even though you were a son of a bitch not to tell me.”

“You’re not scared of me?” Jiyong glanced quickly down the garden towards the house, then cupped Seunghyun’s cheek in one hand.

“Other people should be scared of you.” He smiled gingerly. “Not me. Right? You were protecting me the only way you knew how, and I’ll do the same for you, you know I will! I’ll never tell _anyone_.” Seunghyun almost couldn’t believe the magnificence of this man. “I still love you, Tabi,” said Jiyong, “and we’re gonna build our house and everyone’s gonna be jealous of me because I have _you_. And nothing you’ve ever done can stop me. You’re _mine_.”

“I’ll make you so happy,” promised Seunghyun, wondering how he could now that Jiyong knew what he was.

“Just keep it up,” said Jiyong, leaning against him. “‘Cos now I’ve got more bad memories to forget.” He squinted at the sky thoughtfully, his fingers caressing on Seunghyun’s arm. “But I gotta say…what you’ve told me today?” He gave Seunghyun a very slight smile. “…That helps.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it had to come out eventually! Now how will the boys deal with it?


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong puts his foot down regarding the balance of their relationship. In return, Seunghyun builds him a mansion.

“ _Fuck_ ,” said Jiyong to the silent studio, the morning after his apocalyptic discovery. He inhaled deeply a few times; it felt like he hadn’t taken a breath since he and Seunghyun had walked back into their father’s house. This was his first chance to be alone since then – Seunghyun hadn’t wanted to leave him and go to the office, but Jiyong had made him. He needed time to process things.

So. He finally knew what was wrong with Seunghyun. Jiyong was still reeling from it: his brother, who had built his career on advocating peace, had gone all Old Testament fire and brimstone without even blinking. For _him_. Jiyong put a hand over his mouth, as if he could hide his own laughter from himself. Then he gave up and let his face do what it wanted; when he caught sight of himself in the sound booth glass he saw he was grinning like a lunatic. As soon as he noticed that he began crying, too; it looked insane, but felt incredibly cathartic.

He’d held it in all night – didn’t want Seunghyun to see the intensity of his reaction. Jiyong had felt like this only once in his life before: after he and his brother had first kissed. He vividly recalled his teenage self, sitting in his bedroom feeling as though his heart would physically catch light with the speed of its thumping. It was the same now: panic, exhilaration – but not a hint of regret. When he compared that to how Seunghyun had looked, his sheer self-recrimination at Jiyong finding out…it seemed almost indecent to let the older man see what a thrill he was experiencing.

Jiyong collapsed into his chair behind the mixing desk and wiped his eyes, trying to suppress the trembling in his hands. It wasn’t like he was feeling pure unbridled joy, there was plenty of fear there, too; but it was fear _for_ Seunghyun, not of him. His brother had given him a fuller version of the story when they got home, hunched on the sofa in the middle of the night with Jiyong judiciously feeding him whiskey and cigarettes: the private investigator, the stalking, the arrests and suicide and finally…everything. Seunghyun had put himself in such danger! The older man swore he had dealt with all the loose ends, that none of it was going to come back and bite him in the ass, but still…it made Jiyong shiver to imagine what might have become of him.

It was a revelation in more ways than one. It certainly explained why Seunghyun had been distant those long months, why he had been wary and strange. All that time Jiyong had been so hurt, thinking Seunghyun was neglecting him when he needed him the most – and yet everything Seunghyun had done had been for _him_. If only Seunghyun had _told_ him… But Jiyong knew exactly why he hadn’t. Oh, sure, Seunghyun would have been putting him in a legally dangerous position. That wasn’t the real reason, though. It was because he thought Jiyong couldn’t handle it. Jiyong hated that – if there was anything about his brother that amounted to a genuine flaw, it was the way he underestimated the younger man’s strength.

With that thought Jiyong came to understand something else, too, and almost kicked himself that he hadn’t seen it before. All those weird looks from Seunghyun since they got back together, the overprotectiveness and concern and the general impression that he was coming unravelled; it was because of the crimes he had committed, yeah, and the burden of his guilty conscience. But it was _also_ about a bigger hole in Seunghyun’s self-esteem – his doubt that he could make Jiyong happy.

And _that_ , thought Jiyong in frustration, twirling in his chair, was because Seunghyun thought he alone was responsible for doing so. The stupid man hadn’t even _considered_ that Jiyong was strong enough and well enough to take control of ensuring their happiness; or, better yet, that they could do this together. Seunghyun would have to relearn – his _little_ brother would have to make him learn – that ‘little’ did not mean ‘helpless’. Jiyong groaned to himself; Seunghyun was stubborn, it would be a hard lesson to teach. But he had to set their relationship back in balance, and soon, before they finished the house and took their next step into adulthood.

If he didn’t, how would Seunghyun ever catch up?

 

* * *

 

 

Seunghyun had always thought there would be some sick satisfaction in confessing to Jiyong, describing exactly how he had punished his brother’s attackers. And he was right, there was – but how quickly it was eclipsed by remorse! Jiyong, being the extraordinary human he was, said there was nothing to regret, nothing to forgive. He said he was glad, and he acted it, too. Sometimes, though, Seunghyun caught an almost manic gleam in Jiyong’s lovely eyes, and on days like that he couldn’t believe the knowledge wasn’t hurting him.

“You okay?” Seunghyun asked, nudging Jiyong with his shoulder. The smaller man looked up from where he was massacring cloves of garlic and gave him a smile.

“I’m dandy. Now pipe down, I have to concentrate.”

Seunghyun frowned as Jiyong resumed his efforts to make truffle fried rice – practicing for when they had their own kitchen, he said. It was difficult to take his brother’s serenity at face value: Jiyong had had a nightmare last night, the latest of several in the weeks since Seunghyun had told him everything. He’d calmed down quicker than he used to, burrowing against Seunghyun and going right back to sleep. But Seunghyun knew that Jiyong wouldn’t be having those dreams at all if it wasn’t for the knowledge he’d had shoved in his face. Seunghyun was trying very hard not to blame their father for that, so was blaming himself instead.

“Sure you don’t wanna skip this meet and greet tonight?” he tried. Jiyong ought to rest while he could; he was working harder than ever. Perhaps to keep the bad memories at bay.

“Nah, it should be fun.” Jiyong seemed perfectly enthusiastic. “As long as you come with me, I’m happy,” he added, scooping the garlic into a pan and wrinkling his nose adorably.

“Really?”

“Yes,” said Jiyong with great patience. But Seunghyun knew how good an actor his little brother was.

“Are you being honest with me?” he demanded bluntly, unable to keep his mouth shut. “Don’t hide stuff from me.”

“What?” Jiyong set the knife down. Seunghyun saw one perfect eyebrow flick up in surprise.

“We’ve had enough secrets between us.”

“Tabi,” said Jiyong, finally sounding worried, “what’re you talking about?” Seunghyun stared closely at him, looking yet again for anything new, anything that hadn’t been there before he’d confessed.

“…I just don’t understand how you’re not freaking out.” Jiyong looked even more worried as Seunghyun squeezed his arm pleadingly. “How can you know what I did and not be screwed up by it?!”

“Is that it?” said Jiyong, suddenly drawing his brows down in a deliberate scowl. “You’re upset that I’m not upset?! For Christ’s sake.”

“Captain Kim told me never to speak to him again, and he’s not the one sleeping with me!”

“…He knows?” Jiyong looked thrown.

“Yeah. It’s okay, he won’t say anything. But even he can see I’m not one of the good guys.”

“I don’t care!”

“That’s what I mean. I’m worried about you,” Seunghyun told him frankly. “It’s not normal to be this cool with someone you love being…what I am.” Jiyong tugged his arm away and gave his brother an irritable, long-suffering look.

“I think you’re projecting. It’s _you_ who’s having a bad time dealing with it.”

“No.”

“I’d do the same in your place. I’d take down anyone who hurt you! I’ll protect you n _ow_ if it ever comes to that – god knows I’m rich enough to make any fallout from this disappear.”

“ _No_.”

“Yes, because you never know what could happen! You never know what that PI might decide to say if some journalist or cop gets suspicious – or any of those other guys who helped you. Even Captain Kim!”

“They won’t.” Seunghyun was sure of it. “And even if they did, you think I’d let my brother get his hands dirty?” Jiyong growled in frustration. “I won’t have you getting hurt anymore!”

“Look, I’m _fine_. I was screwed up long before this, Tabi.” Jiyong stopped Seunghyun’s angry protest with a raised hand. “So I can’t react like a normal person. Neither of us can, I guess, given how we’ve spent the last fifteen years.” His expression softened and Seunghyun felt a stab of affection beneath his roiling temper. “Am I sorry for you, for how this has affected you? Sure. Am I grateful you did it?” He leaned forward and kissed the older man’s cheek. “ _Yeah_. If I’m not angry, or scared of you, or calling the police, or whatever else you’re thinking…I can’t help that.”

“…I just have to be sure you’re happy,” murmured Seunghyun, chastened but still on the verge of disbelief. Jiyong sighed in exasperation – he had heard that phrase a lot since they’d reunited – then smiled.

“This is exactly what happened before, you know. After the rape.” He observed Seunghyun’s wince stoically. “See? I can say the word, Tabi, I’m not afraid. This is the same as back then: when you wouldn’t touch me.” The bigger man reached out and caressed the delicate line of his jaw, to remind them both that he could now. Jiyong leaned into his hand. “Why do you never believe I’m as strong as I am?” he said.

“I don’t know. Because I’m your big brother. It’s my job to protect you.”

“Yes,” said Jiyong fondly, hand now covering Seunghyun’s to hold it to his face. “But you’ve probably done enough of that for a while, no?” His kissed Seunghyun’s palm. “It’s my turn now. Understand? When you’re feeling fragile, guilty, whatever, _you_ come to _me_. You’re my responsibility as much as I am yours!” Seunghyun didn’t fancy that much, the idea of burdening Jiyong. But he couldn’t say no; not when Jiyong was so earnest. “I’m still seeing my shrink, you know,” the younger man added, surprising him. “Ever since you started avoiding me. If it makes you feel any better I’ll keep at it. I can handle this, Tabi; I can handle _you_.”

“…Okay,” Seunghyun muttered.

“Good boy.” Jiyong’s black eyes crinkled up in satisfaction, the beginnings of fine lines just visible at the corners; it only made him look more beautiful. “Now go build our house. And remember: everything’s gonna be okay.”

 

* * *

 

 

Eighteen months, it took. Seunghyun scolded Jiyong for his impatience, and cited numerous examples of grand design projects that had turned into major disasters thanks to rushing the job. Jiyong told his brother he over-planned; Seunghyun retorted that Jiyong was impulsive. Jiyong couldn’t fault him for that, he supposed, although the older man was hardly in a position to lecture him about rashness. They argued a few times. Seunghyun got stressed; Jiyong complained to his therapist, Seunghyun apologised, Jiyong told him there was no need. Things were good.

The time didn’t go _so_ slowly; Jiyong was abroad for a good six months, touring and promoting the charity and his new fashion line, leaving Seunghyun to his own devices. It suited his brother to be a bit cagey, and for long stretches the younger man had no idea what was going on at the site. Even Seungri had seen more of the house than him. With his extremely random business contacts, Jiyong’s junior had offered to get various discounts for them, and of course Jiyong had said yes. He was still very fond of his Panda. Seunghyun could grumble all he liked about working with him, the end result was bound to be worth it.

Jiyong was in Paris when Seunghyun called and told him it was ready, at last, and he meant it this time. It was the third time he’d assured his brother everything was done before deciding something else needed changing. Seunghyun had got quite grumpy when Jiyong suggested it didn’t matter if things weren’t perfect.

But now, yes, Seunghyun was sure, all they needed to do was move their belongings and themselves in, and Jiyong could start planning the housewarming party as soon as he liked. Jiyong boarded his plane just before Christmas and flew home to an early snowfall. The curiosity was eating him up. He arrived at their apartment, slept for ten hours, then made Seunghyun drive him straight out of the city. He was dying to see it: the place where they would grow old together.

Jiyong was excited enough that he fidgeted in the front seat all the way there. He hadn’t seen the house since the main framework had been built and they were ready to do the interior. He’d picked out some of the things he wanted, but had been too busy to think about details – he trusted Seunghyun to sort everything out for him. So here it was, the world’s biggest Christmas present waiting to be unwrapped.

They trekked round the grounds in scarves and gloves first, looking at the house from all its elegant and unusual angles, sculpted even further by the snow. Seunghyun was beaming already, looking younger than he had for a long time, as if creating this piece of art had soothed him in a way Jiyong’s lectures about happiness and responsibility could not. The medication was probably helping with that – Jiyong had at last persuaded his brother back into therapy too, and his moods and bouts of anxiety had gradually decreased. Jiyong liked to think that just being together had a great deal to do with it.

Seunghyun showed Jiyong the garages where he could keep a whole fleet of supercars, the guesthouse, the solar-heated pool, the gardens. The younger man wondered how many people they’d have to hire; there was no way they could handle this place themselves, especially with one of them away so often. Seunghyun stopped in the shade between the frosty trees and kissed him, interrupting his thoughts, then led him round to the front door.

“It’s kind of a pain to get in,” he informed Jiyong, giving him the keys and alarm codes. “This place has security out the wazoo.”

Jiyong nodded and let them in, then found himself staring around speechlessly. Seunghyun laughed at him and went to shut the alarm off; Jiyong hadn’t even noticed it.

“Striking, right?” the older man said, shedding both their coats and brushing snow out of Jiyong’s hair.

“…I thought it’d look smaller once it was decorated,” said Jiyong wonderingly, feeling that to use so much space on a room with no other function than to take your shoes off in might actually be immoral. Seunghyun smiled proudly.

The main feature of the wide entrance hall was an arresting geometric staircase that branched into two as it snaked upwards, leading to their respective sides of the house.

“The lift’s just there,” Seunghyun told him. “You know, for when we’re decrepit. Or for when you’ve just done too much shopping.” Jiyong elbowed him. “Whose side d’you wanna see first?”

“Mine!”

“Course you do.”

They went up the stairs; the hall looked even cooler and more like an installation from above. Jiyong emerged on the second floor – the left side – and immediately knew it was _his_. The decor, the lighting, the layout – everything in him felt at home. Seunghyun showed him through his recording studio and dance practice room, both of which had been supervised by Seungri, who knew Jiyong’s working requirements best; then the living room, mini kitchen, bathrooms and spare bedrooms. And they were all _so cool_.

“If your taste in decoration ever tones down,” said Seunghyun hopefully, looking mildly pained at the beautiful explosion of colours, “of course I can redo it for you.”

“Ha ha. Shut up, it’s perfect.” Jiyong pinched him, then took his hand.

“I’ll switch out the artwork every season or so anyway, to keep it fresh.”

Jiyong found the connecting door in a hallway off the kitchen. They had put one on every floor so they could come and go between the two halves of the house, because they were both too lazy to trudge back to the staircase every time they wanted to see each other. And Jiyong would be seeing him a _lot_.

Up another staircase, and Jiyong was soon grinning with delight. His private bathroom was big, with every facility he could possibly need to beautify himself, all done in black and chrome.

“So tacky,” lamented Seunghyun, who knew damn well it wasn’t – it was gorgeous. Jiyong eyed the circular sunken tub with approval; it was so like the one at their father’s house, and he had nothing but good memories of _that_. He couldn’t wait to act them out again here. Following the bathroom were three spacious rooms with professional photography-grade day lighting. They were fitted with racks and shelves already, and in the last was a huge dressing table in lacquered black that opened to reveal a mirrored inside fitted up in polished wood, copper, and crystal.

“ _Damn_ ,” said Jiyong.

“It’s by these Chinese designers,” Seunghyun informed him. “NERI & HU.” And then, with a straight face, “They call it The Narcissist.” Jiyong smacked him.

“You are so rude!”

“Don’t you like it?” asked Seunghyun, now smirking.

“Of course I do.” Jiyong gestured to the rooms behind him. “But just how vain do you think I am?! Even I don’t have enough clothes to fill that lot.”

“You will,” Seunghyun predicted, unabashed. “And there’s more storage in the basement by my wine cellar. Now come see your bedroom.”

“Ahh,” said Jiyong in satisfaction as he strode in, “there it is!” The bed was the one thing he _had_ made a point of commissioning himself. It was a modern four-poster, shiny and chrome, and so big Seunghyun said the covers and sheets would have to be made specially. The rest of the room was extra enough, with one-of-a-kind wallpaper, thick vivid rugs, and a large sofa that looked like it would be equally good to take a spin on.

“I assume you’re planning to host an orgy on that thing,” murmured Seunghyun, coming up behind him and staring at the bed. He kissed Jiyong’s neck. “It’s _ridiculous_.”

“Come on.” Jiyong leaned back against him. “It’s practical. In summer we’ll be able to spread out as much as we like!”

“How considerate.” Seunghyun kissed him again.

“Mmm.” Sensing that his brother was beginning to get distracted, Jiyong patted him on the cheek and moved on. He wanted to jump on the bed and try it out right away, but he felt duty bound to finish the tour first, since Seunghyun had put so much time and effort into their new home.

Seunghyun went back into the corridor and opened the door to his side of the house.

“This is gonna bore you,” he told Jiyong, grabbing his hand again.

“It won’t.” The younger man followed him into a warm but more subdued hallway; there were a few strategically placed paintings on the walls, and small sculptures in alcoves. “I love your taste, Tabi, ‘cos I love you. I’m just scared to touch anything!”

“I trust you,” said Seunghyun easily. He drew Jiyong through the double doors at the end of the corridor and into his bedroom. It was classic and gorgeous, a James Bond room if ever there was one, and the bed looked super comfortable. Jiyong could see himself sleeping here as easily as in his own room. Well, they could swap round according to their mood. “I was wondering what to do about this wall,” commented Seunghyun, gesturing to the wide, blank space opposite the bed. “I thought about putting one of the abstracts there. But now I’ve decided.” He gave Jiyong a smile. “I’m gonna commission someone to do your portrait. Maybe Kwang Ho-shin. It’ll keep me company when you’re away.”

“Tabi,” said Jiyong, feeling oddly bashful but unconsciously lifting his chin to show his profile off better. Seunghyun’s smile widened.

“You’re the only person I know who can bear looking at himself for hours on end. You won’t mind it being there, will you? I’ll make sure it does you justice.”

“If,” said Jiyong slyly, “you let me buy that picture Pierre et Gilles did of you. You know, the first time you sat for them in Paris.” It had been a tad risky, the both of them getting friendly with such a celebrated gay couple – it had led to gossip among Jiyong’s fans, of course – but it was worth it for the exquisite portrait they had created. Seunghyun had been too embarrassed to let him keep it, but now Jiyong had a bargaining chip.

“…Just put it in your dressing room where I don’t have to see it.” Seunghyun pulled a face. “But yours is going right here.”

“Yeah, ‘cos that won’t look obsessive at all!”

“This floor is just for us,” Seunghyun reminded him, dropping his voice to that low, seductive tone that gave Jiyong the shivers; it had been a while since he’d heard it. “No guests; we can do whatever we like up here.”

“Later,” Jiyong promised him, too flattered to protest anymore. They continued to explore the third floor: Seunghyun’s tasteful, sober bathroom, a private study, one measly walk-in wardrobe, and a little sitting-room that looked like a jewel with the beautiful artworks it contained. “You _are_ clever, Tabi,” said Jiyong admiringly. It all _felt_ like his brother; just looking at it filled him with a sense of contentment.

“I am, aren’t I!” agreed Seunghyun, looking pleased with himself. “Now I can stay right at home and people will come to _me_.” Jiyong just shook his head and smiled.

Down the stairs he found a couple more spare bedrooms, a mini-kitchen to match his own, and Seunghyun’s library – or rather a large room full of comfy chairs and empty shelves, waiting for the rest of their stuff to be moved in.

“Can you have at least one shelf for comics or novels or something?” asked Jiyong. “So I might actually want to come in here sometimes?” His brother’s usual reading matter was pretty heavy going. Seunghyun nodded.

“Anything you want, baby. I’ll put a couch in here, you can nap while I’m working. Now. You want to see where you’re going to party?”

“Ooh, yeah.”

There was only one floor left. They went back down the big staircase and through the wide entrance hall; the first floor of the house wasn’t divided, but spread across its whole width in a series of imposing rooms. These were where they could bring people, and entertain herds of Jiyong’s friends to their hearts’ content. A multi-media room with cinema screen and game consoles was the only place that felt cosy; the rest of the rooms were unapologetically decadent. A sprawling lounge in cream and grey with dark red accents and its own bar led out to an open, glass-ceilinged dancefloor attached to the side of the house. Another lounge space followed that, slightly smaller but so extravagant it didn’t look real.

“…Dude,” said Jiyong idiotically, staring up at the glowing turquoise wave of curled glass, poised to crest far above his head. It ran from floor to ceiling the length of the room, which was all gleaming white, broken by the magenta and blue accents of the velvet furniture.

“Right?” agreed Seunghyun. Jiyong had seen the design concept, but he hadn’t imagined how surreal it would be in real life.

“What’s this guy’s name again?” He’d give the designer all the free PR he wanted; it was insanely cool.

“Sergei Estrin,” Seunghyun said. “He did some similar stuff in Moscow. So dynamic. They had to make the glass in Germany and ship it over.”

“When can we have our housewarming?!” Jiyong couldn’t wait to show this off. He thought how fantastic Seunghyun would look being photographed here, the two of them together: grownups with a mortgage at last.

“Whenever we’ve moved all our crap in.” Seunghyun shrugged.

“Don’t tell me you’re not dying to brag about everything you’ve done here,” said Jiyong, poking him in the ribs.

“I did it for us,” Seunghyun pointed out. “And the people I like. Who cares what anyone else thinks of it?” Jiyong chuckled at that; he did tend to forget how vain he was compared to his big brother.

Towards the back of the house was a dining room that Jiyong would never try to have an intimate family dinner in; it looked like a set from _Hannibal_. He wondered who Seunghyun was expecting to do the cooking; you’d have to be at it all day to fill the long table.

“I’ll do it, if we have a dinner party,” the older man said optimistically. “At least,” he added, “I’ll personally hire the caterers.” Jiyong snorted, and they walked along a final short hall towards the kitchen.

“Where’s the gallery again?” he asked; in the parade of rooms he’d forgotten what they’d planned.

“Underground past the gym,” said Seunghyun. “Where I can control the temperature and air. But I haven’t arranged most of the pieces yet, I’m still deciding which to get out of storage.”

“Tell you what, Tabi,” offered Jiyong, sliding one arm across Seunghyun’s shoulders. “Seeing as you’ve done all this for us while I was dancing around on Japanese TV…I’ll buy you a present.” Seunghyun raised a handsome eyebrow. “Any art piece you want,” Jiyong said enthusiastically. “Warhol, Lichtenstein, Dali, whoever you like.”

“You don’t have to do that, baby.”

“I know,” said Jiyong happily. “That’s why I want to.”

Seunghyun kissed him then, and they almost missed seeing the kitchen at all.

“…This is _huge_ ,” exclaimed Jiyong, gawping as he finally entered the room. “What the hell are you planning to _do_ in here?!”

“Cook,” said Seunghyun reasonably. The kitchen was the last of their shared rooms – not that Jiyong would ever make himself useful in it – and even Seunghyun admitted it was probably out of his league. It was a designer dream of gunmetal wood and marble, matte steel fittings and random pops of vivid colour like a Pollock painting, with enough shelf space and cookers for a small restaurant. There was a breakfast bar and a table by John Houshmand, and in the centre an unnecessarily large group of kitchen islands. It would be much better than the dining room for family meals, Jiyong acknowledged.

“I could’ve put another dance studio in here!” He executed a few fluid shuffles around the room to prove his point while Seunghyun admired the Sub-Zero fridge and vowed to up his culinary skills.

“You’ll thank me in the end,” the older man predicted.

“I just think we could’ve used it for something much cooler…”

“You know what?” said Seunghyun, who had apparently thought of another use for the kitchen that might shut his brother up, “you can thank me right _now_.” And he grabbed Jiyong as he moonwalked past him, picked him up and set him down hard on the smooth surface of the nearest island. He pushed Jiyong onto his back and tugged him close by his belt, knocking his slim legs open.

“ _Oh_!” said Jiyong, half the breath surprised out of him. Then he smirked and curled his thighs enthusiastically around Seunghyun’s hips. “Now _this_ I can get behind.” His fingers went unerringly for Seunghyun’s zipper – they hadn’t done this in what felt like months.

“Let’s christen this place,” Seunghyun suggested, in the low rumble he knew his brother liked. Jiyong stretched up lithely and kissed him hard, one hand grabbing his ass.

“Screw that,” he grinned, black eyes glittering. “I say we haven’t moved in until we christen every room in the house!” He pulled his own sweater and tshirt off in one easy movement, hissing as his back hit the cold marble of the island when Seunghyun shoved him down.

“See?” said Seunghyun smugly, yanking off the rest of Jiyong’s clothes in a rush that spoke to a very different kind of hunger. “You’re gonna…need feeding.” He pressed his mouth to Jiyong’s long neck, tasting him all the way down to his nipple. Jiyong’s hands were buried in his hair now. “For the energy if nothing else…!”

Jiyong huffed, then moaned as Seunghyun began to suck his nipple into hardness. He gave Seunghyun no more back-chat after that, and after ten minutes’ heated prep the older man was fucking him on the counter, the room so large that Jiyong’s delighted cries echoed back to them. Seunghyun grabbed a handful of his hair – bright orange that glowed against the dark grey surface of the island – and pulled to see Jiyong snarl cutely up at him, the smaller man’s nails in the back of his neck urging him on. Jiyong felt like he was in a movie – a stupidly fancy scene from some Hollywood thriller: two unrealistically attractive people having visually spectacular sex in a goddamn mansion. Just then Seunghyun bent and kissed him, and Jiyong almost lost his rhythm as the feeling of amazement intensified. How was this his life? How had they _got_ here?!

Seunghyun made him come first, not taking his gaze from the younger man’s flushed face. Jiyong’s eyes fluttered closed, then opened again to drink in Seunghyun’s own climax; there was absolutely nothing so mesmerising as the rare sight of his brother’s features wearing undiluted happiness. Once Seunghyun was done Jiyong sat up, slim chest still heaving, and wound his arms around his neck.

“All right,” he murmured, holding Seunghyun while he got his breath back. “…I stand corrected. I love _everything_ about this house.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was a kind of fluffy, self-indulgent chapter! I just really wanted to design their house XD
> 
> I can't believe we're on Chapter 30 already. It seems to have gone so fast, but maybe that's just me. (It's certainly the most responsible I've ever been about updating regularly!) Just a little further to go now...


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Jiyong shows off their house on what he assumes will be an innocuous TV show, and in doing so sparks a confrontation he's spent almost twenty years avoiding.

“Hey. Tabi.”

“Hmm?”

“The place looks great now the flowers are blooming.”

“Yeah,” said Seunghyun complacently, not looking up from his nail file. He was giving Jiyong a pedicure; his brother had pretty feet, and Seunghyun was getting them ready for a summer-theme photoshoot in between tickling them to make him squirm.

“I wanna show it off.”

“You already did at the party. Oi, keep still.” He slapped Jiyong’s thigh as the smaller man twisted to stroke his new cat, which strolled on past with the usual feline disinterest in its owner’s affairs.

“That was months ago,” Jiyong told him, reaching after it and picking it up to take a selfie with it. The cat gave Seunghyun a look; like this its little face was strikingly similar to Jiyong’s. “And you complained the whole way through.” He slid his foot up Seunghyun’s thigh persuasively and the older man paused, certain that Jiyong was about to ask him something annoying.

“There were too many idiots there.” He sighed. “All right, what do you want?”

“You know me and Youngbae are releasing that best-of album?”

“Course.”

“So,” Jiyong explained, crossing his legs comfortably across Seunghyun’s, “it’s promotion season again, and YG’s sorting out my TV spots.”

“And?”

“And they asked me to do _I Live Alone_.”

“But you don’t live alone,” Seunghyun pointed out. “And you’re certainly not single.”

“…I know,” said Jiyong. “But everyone _thinks_ I am. That’s why I wanted to check with you first, in case…”

“Yes?”

“In case you felt hurt,” Jiyong said frankly. Seunghyun patted his calf; as a matter of fact he wasn’t thrilled, though he knew it was probably a good idea in terms of the younger man’s image. Still, he was touched that Jiyong had asked.

“You want to film at the house?” he asked. Jiyong nodded.

“Thought I’d get a few of the YG girls over, Seungri too if he’s in the country, show us chilling out in the garden – you said I ought to have more women round anyway. Then I’ll let them film some of the house: the party rooms and the suites on my side, me doing some work in the studio and stuff…and this cute kitty of course…!”

“Go on.”

“And I want to show them your library, if it’s okay with you. The gallery as well. It’s not like I wanna erase your existence from the episode – I want to remind people this is your house too!” Seunghyun thought about it.

“Would it gratify you?” he said. “To have all those strangers looking into your life?” If he was famous like Jiyong he’d definitely find it creepy.

“Yeah.” Jiyong gave him a warm smile. “We made this place together; I want people to see that. But only if you’re happy to let me.”

“…All right.” Seunghyun kissed him, and made a mental note to make him take down that hugely embarrassing Pierre et Gilles portrait before he let cameramen into his dressing rooms. He had to draw the line somewhere.

He went back to painting Jiyong’s toenails. He couldn’t decide whether to be apprehensive or flattered; he supposed he wouldn’t know until the episode aired. But Jiyong looked content, and in the end that was all that mattered.

 

* * *

 

 

On the day of the shoot Seunghyun came home around lunchtime, carefully avoiding any cameras, and snuck over to his side of the house to change out of his work clothes and hide. Jiyong was messing around in the pool with his friends as scheduled, but thought he spotted his big brother’s figure disappearing round the side of the garage. So as soon as Seungri and the others were done filming Jiyong left them to make their own way home and went to find him.

“You _are_ back!” Jiyong said in satisfaction, appearing at Seunghyun’s bedroom door. His brother was hanging up his suit. “I thought I saw you lurk by.”

“Are you guys almost done?” demanded Seunghyun, no doubt wondering when it would be safe to go downstairs.

“Not nearly.” Jiyong laughed, observed Seunghyun’s eyes on him. He was still barefoot in his D&G swim shorts, a towel round his neck and the honey of his hair darkened by pool water. Seunghyun seemed to be enjoying the sight. “The others have gone, though, and the programme people are on lunch. They sent me to get changed so they can redo my makeup.”

“And you’re in here with me because…?” Seunghyun looked worried; he probably didn’t fancy some random cameraman or stylist wandering into his room on Jiyong’s tail. Jiyong dismissed that worry immediately by shutting the door. But when he snapped the lock the older man looked even twitchier.

“I just came up to say thank you,” said Jiyong, allowing a small smile to blossom on his lips as he advanced on the walk-in wardrobe. “For letting me have these strangers traipse round your house.”

“‘S okay!” Seunghyun told him hurriedly. Jiyong laughed to himself; he knew his brother could read the glint in his eye. He could practically hear Seunghun’s thoughts as he got closer: _Not right now. Not here. Surely_.

Jiyong didn’t hesitate but marched straight into the wardrobe, blocking the bigger man’s avenue of escape. With a broad smile he took Seunghyun by the scruff of the neck and hauled him up against the mirrored wall at the back, and before his brother could let out more than a few indignant splutters Jiyong was on his knees between the rows of expensive suits.

“You _can’t_ -” began Seunghyun, panicked. All of a sudden Jiyong was sixteen again, back in Seunghyun’s college dorm and every bit as determined to have his way. Seunghyun looked almost as freaked out now as he had then, but Jiyong didn’t care. He had wanted to taste the older man so badly that first time, had been aching to please him in this particular way. The excitement of it had never changed.

“ _Sshh_ , Tabi,” murmured Jiyong. “The more you cooperate, the sooner I’ll let you alone.” Seunghyun’s hands opened and closed reflexively, as though he wanted to push him away and make a run for it, but in the end he just took hold of the suit rails and braced himself. “Relax,” Jiyong told him chidingly. He exhaled slowly against the summer-weight fabric of Seunghyun’s shirt, let the warmth spread across his brother’s skin and then repeated it, lower and lower until he was breathing hot over the rising stiffness in his pants. Jiyong pressed a kiss to its hard outline, open-mouthed against the dark grey of his slacks. When he looked up Seunghyun’s own mouth had parted dopily, his eyes fixed on the lush curve of Jiyong’s lips.

“…You oughta stop,” whispered Seunghyun, utterly unconvincing. Jiyong smiled mischeviously and trailed his fingers up Seunghyun’s hips, skimming over the spot on his waist where he was ticklish. The older man made an urgent noise.

“You deserve a treat,” Jiyong informed him, lips still moving on his covered erection. “And so do I.” He knew Seunghyun hadn’t been wild about the idea of having his home invaded and broadcast to the nation; and yet he had still been willing to indulge his little brother’s need to display the life they shared. Seunghyun had certainly earned some pleasure. Jiyong could feel him beginning to shiver, with nerves or anticipation or both. So without any more talking he took the button of Seunghyun’s slacks between his teeth and twisted until it popped open, his hands still caressing the bigger man’s gorgeous ass. It had taken quite a bit of practice to master this hands-free trick and it was harder than it looked, but it was worth it: it was too exciting to hear Seunghyun’s gasp as Jiyong pulled his zipper down using only his mouth.

But Jiyong couldn’t draw this out forever, no matter how satisfying he found it. The stylists would be looking for him soon, and besides, he was eager to reach the main course. Seunghyun made another protesting noise when the younger man tugged his pants and underwear down to his thighs, then groaned helplessly as Jiyong nuzzled his cheek against his hard cock. Jiyong loved to hear those sounds, liked to see how much variety he could create. He began with his fingertips, gliding them lightly around the head and down the shaft in different patterns, enjoying the heat and stiffness of it, the texture and give. When he added his mouth to the mix he could swear he felt Seunghyun’s knees physically shake. Jiyong’s own arousal began to rise. He was gently playing with Seunghyun’s balls to tease him when there came an abrupt bang, seemingly right under their feet.

“What was that?!” hissed Seunghyun, all of a sudden rigid, and not in the fun way. Jiyong chuckled and gave him a consoling pat on the hip.

“They must be setting up in your library, remember? It’s just downstairs.”

“We have to stop!” announced Seunghyun immediately, a deep scarlet flooding his face and horror filling his voice at the continued sounds of equipment being moved below. “They’re _right there_ …”

“You’ll just have to be quiet, won’t you.”

“I’m _serious_!”

“…How serious, exactly?” Jiyong didn’t let him go. Instead he stopped all his teasing and closed his lips tight over the head of Seunghyun’s cock, increasing the suction until he heard his brother let out a loud and helpless moan of delight. Seunghyun clapped a hand across his mouth, staring down at Jiyong with wide, pleading eyes. Jiyong just smiled around his mouthful and carried on.

Seunghyun didn’t stop him. Maybe he _couldn’t_ stop him; Jiyong had had many years of practice, and he liked to think he was that good. So he continued, hot and wet as he could make it, taking Seunghyun hungrily into his throat with a low sound of indulgence. Contrary to what this position probably looked like, doing this always made Jiyong feel sort of powerful when Seunghyun was so clearly at his mercy. The older man’s muffled groans were the sweetest kind of music, rising and falling as Jiyong varied the pace and intensity, using his fingers and tongue to drive him even crazier.

There was the occasional panicked moan when the faint sound of voices drifted up to them from the library, but Jiyong would allow no more protests. He found the thought of it, of doing this for his lover just metres away from an unwitting broadcast crew, to be absolutely thrilling. He wondered if there was something wrong with him; he supposed he ought to be freaking out like Seunghyun, but instead it was making him even more excited. And it evidently wasn’t enough to put his brother off entirely: Seunghyun was getting close, his free hand leaving its grip on the clothes rail to tangle in Jiyong’s damp hair. Jiyong pulled in a breath through his nose and took Seunghyun as deep as he could, repressing his gag reflex automatically; it hurt, it always hurt a little bit, but he didn’t care, not when it was this man and they both felt this _good_. He knew Seunghyun would return the favour in spades as soon as he had the chance.

A minute more of Jiyong’s wickedest efforts and he felt Seunghyun orgasm hard, fingers pulling painfully at his hair. Jiyong gazed up to see Seunghyun biting down on his other hand to stop himself crying out. Seunghyun’s eyes were fixed on him, and that was always the best part, that was the kicker: the way his brother looked at him in these moments. Jiyong swallowed happily, basking in the desperate heat of that stare. He eventually let Seunghyun’s cock slip from his mouth, enjoying the warm friction tingle in his lips as he gently buttoned the older man back up. Seunghyun had gone limp against the mirror, his breath fast and unsteady. Jiyong took his hand, saw a deep set of teeth marks in it, and was pleased with himself. He kissed it better, then got to his feet.

“…You’re nuts,” Seunghyun managed disbelievingly. “You’re _crazy_.” But his eyes were on the bulge in Jiyong’s swimming shorts. Jiyong didn’t say anything; at this point there really wasn’t time. He just licked his lips sensuously, gave Seunghyun another sultry smile, and swanned out of the room, leaving his brother to pull himself together.

Jiyong darted through the connecting door and into his own bathroom. He stripped down and got himself off as quickly as possible – it hardly took a minute with the mental picture of Seungyun still behind his eyelids. He would apologise later. Maybe. But for now, he thought, trotting down the stairs to continue filming, this looked like being one of the most entertaining TV shows he had ever made.

 

* * *

 

 

Jiyong was doing a fundraiser the night the episode showed, so Seunghyun felt safe to invite his mother round. Someone had tattled to her that he was appearing in it, and then nothing would do but to inflict it on him. He took her upstairs to his small living-room, gave her a bottle of wine and the TV remote, and sat down with a Sotheby’s auction catalogue in case he needed to hide from the sight of himself.

“What time is it on?” his mother asked, frowning at the screen; she had got more short-sighted as she aged but was still too vain to wear glasses in front of people.

“Now,” said Seunghyun reluctantly. “Other channel.”

He hadn’t wanted to watch the whole thing – he could see Jiyong’s cuts on YouTube later. He didn’t even want her to watch it, but he couldn’t say no to her. Now that life had calmed down a bit he was trying to be less of a crappy son. He was acutely aware that over the years his father had claimed the lion’s share of his affection, and that he and Jiyong and their dad – and even Won Bohee – had become a real family while his mother was left to herself. She had never remarried. What kind of man would Seunghyun be if he neglected her now?

“I like that presenter,” she said, drawing his attention back to the TV. She took a sip and gestured with her glass.

“That’s ‘cos she looks like you, Mom.” His mother was still an attractive woman; it was too bad she didn’t do something with it. At least the compliment made her smile, and she kept up a cheerful running commentary through the opening section.

“Oh,” she commented, voice dropping into neutral, “there he is.” Seunghyun felt himself tense as Jiyong appeared onscreen. He should have known better than to think he could relax with his brother in her firing line. But, “He looks young,” was all she said. Seunghyun nodded and wisely kept quiet. Certainly Jiyong seemed little more than a kid with his skinny jeans and mop of caramel-coloured hair, and Seunghyun was grateful on his behalf for the almost-compliment.

An establishing shot of the house appeared. Luckily it had been a warm, fine day and so it showed to best advantage. Seunghyun smiled to himself. It really was a beautiful building, and the director had managed to capture that properly. His mother made an approving noise; Seunghyun had inherited his artistic streak from her, after all. He poured her some more wine and watched the pool party and brunch scene: all the gorgeous girls and dowdy male comedians, and Jiyong sparkling wet and half-naked in centre frame. His brother was laughing dorkily as that tubby wiseass Dony tried to cadge a piggy-back ride off him.

“Look!” exclaimed Seunghyun’s mother, “there you are!”

“Where?” Seunghyun caught sight of himself coming out of the garage, and pulled a face. Right, he had got home from his meeting about then, but he hadn’t realised he was in shot. He watched himself edge around the bushes by the pool and skulk towards the house. If he leaned closer to the TV Seunghyun could see himself aiming a dirty look at Seungri, who as usual was twice as loud as everyone else.

“You didn’t want to join the party?” his mother inquired. Seunghyun glanced at her. “His friends look very…entertaining.”

“Didn’t have my swimming kit on.” Seunghyun didn’t like to say that the thought of showing his body to the entire MBC viewership made his toes curl.

“Which one of those is his girlfriend?” she continued, as Jiyong heaved himself out of the pool and sat on the edge surrounded by a chattering group of dancers. Seunghyun was immediately suspicious – even after all these years his mother had never managed to evince an interest in Jiyong; in fact, disinterest was the very best he could expect.

“I dunno, none of them. All of them?” She opened her mouth. “Don’t say _anything_ ,” Seunghyun warned her; he was morally certain she was about to call his brother a tramp.

“I was just going to ask,” she said coolly, “if one of them was _yours_.”

“No.” Seunghyun heard her sniff. Oh. Maybe this wasn’t about Jiyong, then; maybe her disapproval tonight was aimed at _him_.

“That’s a shame. Your father thinks so too, we were discussing it the other day.” He raised his catalogue without taking the bait, and let her keep watching.

Seunghyun took only sporadic notice of the programme after that, and quit listening to his mother’s commentary; he made appropriate grunting noises whenever she paused, but otherwise felt it safer to tune her out. Again, this wasn’t being a model son, but she had a real knack for pushing his buttons even when he was trying to be nice.

The next time he looked up Jiyong was doing his afternoon guided tour, and there was Seunghyun, unwittingly onscreen for the second time: a long shot over Jiyong’s shoulder to where he’d been getting wine and a sandwich from the kitchen. Seunghyun looked at his own out-of-focus face, noticed it was bright red, and felt himself blush all over again. God, they’d had to catch _that_ on film. But it could have been worse, thought Seunghyun, shuddering to himself: they could have caught the scene that had caused that flustered expression, that reckless, amazing thanks-for-being-a-good-sport blowjob in his wardrobe. He felt giddy just remembering the risk – and the pleasure. He still couldn’t believe Jiyong had done it.

 “You look a bit hot and bothered,” said his mother. Seunghyun raised his catalogue higher. “It must have been stressful for you; I hope he asked your permission before he started using your house as a publicity stunt.”

“It’s his house too,” mumbled Seunghyun, still embarrassed at himself. He rallied just enough to defend Jiyong. “He paid for most of it!” He heard her click her tongue. “And of course he asked me.”

“Where did you get that apron?” she added. “You look like his butler. Are you in any more of this?”

“I think so,” said Seunghyun dolefully. Jiyong was moving downstairs now, through the party rooms and onto the basement floor. He whisked past the gym and his spare clothing storage, and ushered them into Seunghyun’s art gallery.

“Now _that’s_ a tasteful space.” Unlike Jiyong’s décor, Seunghyun supposed she meant. “Who’d have thought it?” said his mother, giving him a smile. “My little boy graduating from Ghibli posters to Picassos.”

“Hey, _Totoro_ ’s still the best.”

“Does he know what he’s talking about?” she went on, giving Jiyong’s enthusiastic figure a critical look as the presenters started to ask him questions.

“Of course he does. Jiyong’s very knowledgeable, he bought me that Pollock on the far wall. But just wait.” Seunghyun bet he could guess what they’d show next; he hoped it would distract her enough to quit making backhanded digs at his brother. Apparently the longer she looked at him the more irritated she got.

A minute later she was exclaiming happily as Seunghyun – minus apron – entered the gallery. The real thing grimaced at himself; for some reason he hated seeing the back of his own head, and the way he walked was weird, wasn’t it? He had no-one to blame but himself, though. He’d followed them down there to snoop, but as soon as he heard the presenters asking about the artworks his natural excitement had bubbled up and made him barge into the room. Jiyong had given him a delighted grin, introduced him to the presenters, then let him ramble on. Seunghyun couldn’t help himself, he loved to talk about his treasures – it was an irrepressible urge.

“You sound so professional, darling,” said his mother. “Look, isn’t that the print I gave you back in college?”

“Yup.”

“Come tell them about this one,” Jiyong was saying onscreen, taking Seunghyun’s wrist to tug him over to the Pollock. He stood with his arm linked through Seunghyun’s affectionately, looking up at him as he explained its interesting points and whose present it had been. That look, Seunghyun loved it. It was a particular expression Jiyong wore when he was listening to older men who genuinely interested him: it wasn’t just respect or flirtation but a bright-eyed, smiling attentiveness that made you feel like you were the most fascinating person in the world. Seunghyun didn’t know any celebrity who was immune to it; he certainly wasn’t, and it showed.

His mother kept quiet while he waxed lyrical about his collection, a frown of concentration deepening the lines on her forehead. When the presenters began to ask Jiyong questions again she leaned back against the arm of the sofa.

“Is that it, then?”

“Huh?” Seunghyun blinked. She nodded to the image on the screen, the two of them arm in arm, Seunghyun gazing down at his brother as though he was equally enthralling while Jiyong chattered away.

“Is that the closest I’ll ever get to seeing you with a life partner?” Seunghyun flushed dully – she was closer than she knew. “Are you really going to live here with him forever?”

“Unless he gets married,” said Seunghyun firmly, “then yes.”

“…It’s such a waste.”

“Can we not have this argument again, Mom? It never goes anywhere.” He was tired of it. To his surprise she gave a heartfelt sigh and nodded. Maybe she was mellowing, he thought hopefully, as she turned back to the TV.

But Seunghyun was never that lucky, and just as he was congratulating himself the door opened and Jiyong’s blonde head appeared round it.

“Tabi, did you-” Seunghyun froze, rabbit-like. “Oh!” said Jiyong in a surprised, breathy voice that made him sound sixteen. From the other end of the sofa Seunghyun could feel the atmosphere frost over. “Sorry,” muttered Jiyong, anxiety all over his pretty face. “I’ll just go and-”

“No, come in,” said Seunghyun on impulse – he couldn’t let this go on. They were all too old, it was ridiculous. He saw his mother stiffen further, but she kept a careful silence. Seunghyun guessed that Jiyong wasn’t about to move of his own accord, so he got up and drew his brother in by the arm. “It’s okay,” he murmured, and sat Jiyong down bodily on the sofa.

After a moment his mother looked at the younger man; immediately Seunghyun heard Jiyong’s breathing accelerate. He set both hands bracingly on his shoulders, standing behind him as if he needed protecting but mostly to keep him from bolting. He could feel the tiny tremors in Jiyong’s skin beneath his shirt, and realised that his brother was as scared of his mother now as he had ever been as a kid. She was still staring at them silently. Hadn’t any of them grown up? thought Seunghyun helplessly. He took a deep breath.

“Both of you,” he said, trying for as much lawyerly authority as possible. “This can’t carry on. I’ve had enough.” Jiyong turned to give him a wide-eyed glance, but Seunghyun shook his head. “Mom, you’re my mother and I love you. Jiyong’s my brother, and I love _him_.” Her lips thinned. “You’ve had…almost twenty years to get used to that. I’m never going to see whatever it is _you_ see when you look at him.” He gave Jiyong’s shoulder a squeeze; his hands were clenched together in his lap, and Seunghyun knew he hated this. “What I see is my blood, and my best friend, and the person I’m going to share a home with as long as he’ll let me.”

“Tabi…” Jiyong began tremulously.

“It’s okay, you’ll get your say in a minute.” Seunghyun patted his collarbone. “Mom, I want you to be civil: no more backchat, no more targeting him for things that aren’t his fault. Jiyong, you’re over thirty years old, you need to quit being so scared. Yeah, Mom’s always gonna be a part of my life, but so will you, and I won’t let you get hurt!”

Seunghyun wound down and waited, slightly breathless, to see how his family would react. His mother hadn’t said a word but sat there rigid, listening to his diatribe with no expression but an ambiguous shine in her eyes. Seunghyun found himself bracing for an explosion, and decided right then that if she did he would retaliate with no holds barred. He could almost feel the sizzle in the air. But before she could open her mouth Jiyong spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “for acting nervous. I know it’s rude.” Seunghyun started to interrupt, but Jiyong shook his head, not looking at him. “I’m not talking to you, Tabi,” he informed him, his sweet voice faint but determined. “I’m talking to your mother.” For an instant Seunghyun saw her face change, as if to say _how dare he_ ; but she quickly resumed an attentive expression. “I understand why you resent me, Ma’am,” continued Jiyong earnestly. “But he’s right: we’ve let this go on too long, and it’s affected Seunghyun more than you think.” Seunghyun’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “I promise you that all I want is to make your son happy. Whatever he wants to do, I’ll be guided by him; and he wants us to stop.”

“I _do_ ,” confirmed Seunghyun. His mother looked at him quickly before she fixed her attention on Jiyong once more.

“So I’ll say this once.” Jiyong swallowed. “I am sorry: for whatever I did, or my mother did, to hurt you.” Seunghyun opened his mouth furiously – there was no need for that! There could be no blame attached to Jiyong for how his parents had acted. Hell, Jiyong had been the one to teach _him_ that, so many years ago. “I’m sorry I took your family,” Jiyong went on before Seunghyun could get a word in; he took a shaky breath. “If I could make it up to you, I would. The only thing I’m not sorry for is that it gave me the best brother in the world.” Jiyong’s hand reached up to give Seunghyun’s a squeeze. “…Isn’t he worth making peace over?”

Seunghyun wanted to grab him right there and kiss him; for one crazy moment he thought it would be unutterably satisfying to show his mother just how much they meant to each other. Jiyong was incredible, and far, far too good for him. Who could fail to be moved by a speech like that?

Jiyong seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. He sat worked-up and trembling beneath Seunghyun’s hands, waiting for the woman on the other end of the sofa to respond to his peace offering. Seunghyun’s mother was looking at Jiyong as if he was an unknown and fascinating life-form; her eyes moved from his face to Seunghyun’s protective grip on his shoulders, to her son’s face, and back again. She was making an expression like she was about to cry; on one hand Seunghyun felt guilty, but on the other he welcomed any kind of softening in her attitude. At last she tore her gaze away from Jiyong’s famous features and met Seunghyun’s eyes.

“Please tell Jiyong I accept his apology,” she said quietly. Seunghyun caught Jiyong’s gasp, and at the same time felt his lips tightening: one, she had no right to accept any kind of apology when Jiyong had done _nothing wrong_ ; and two…

“Why not tell him yourself?” he demanded, trying to sound non-confrontational.

“I’m doing the best I can.” She was sitting very straight, her poise a defence. “I’m making this effort for _you_ , darling, because you need it. He’s right about that.” She gave Jiyong another look up and down. “So I won’t talk about him anymore, not if it really hurts you. But I can’t talk _to_ him, either; we’re never going to have a relationship.”

“Mom-” Seunghyun began warningly.

“I simply can’t.” She gestured to the younger man as though he was an inanimate doll. “Look at him, he’s just like his mother.” She shook her head. “He’s too…”

“…I get it,” said Jiyong in a tiny voice. Without any more argument he got up, laid his hand on Seunghyun’s arm, and met his eyes. With a quiet expression he continued: “It’s okay, Tabi, don’t get wound up. This is a step forward. Take a breath,” he instructed, “and think about it. It’s fair enough, isn’t it?”

“Is it?” said Seunghyun tightly; he was _furious_. Jiyong ran one hand soothingly up and down his bicep.

“Talk to your mom. I’m gonna go get something to eat. I’ll see you later.” He gave Seunghyun’s mother a bow she had in no way earned, and left the room quickly. Seunghyun stood staring at the closed door for a while, and tried to get himself under control.

“He’s more mature than you,” his mother admitted once he had been stewing for several minutes.

“Oh, great time to praise him!” snapped Seunghyun, rounding on her. “Now he’s not around to hear it!”

“It’s true,” she said coolly. “That child is a realist – he knows better than to expect any more from me.”

“He _should_ expect more. He didn’t have to reach out to you, Mom, he’s not the one with the attitude problem!” She shrugged, then stood up and began to collect her belongings. “ _Please_ ,” begged Seunghyun; he didn’t want this to end even worse than it had begun!

“I’ve said I won’t badmouth him anymore,” she said. “I’m human too, Seunghyun, I can’t do more than that. It’s not something I can just _get over_.”

“And yet you’ll happily discuss my love life with Dad,” retorted Seunghyun, hearing the venom drain from his tone. “The guy whose fault this _actually_ is.” He felt dull now: reason, anger, appeals to her better nature hadn’t worked. Perhaps Jiyong was right, he just had to accept it. His mother made no response to his jibe, but asked for her coat.

“I’ll leave you to think about it,” she told him. “Not just about what he’s done to me. Think what effect he’s having on _you_. I know you love him, it’s all too easy to see. But consider his lifestyle, the way he looks, the lack of a girlfriend at his age; it’s so _suspicious_ , all my friends think so too. Don’t you think that’s influencing how people see you?”

“I’ve thought about it,” he replied hopelessly; he didn’t bother referring to those last insinuations. There was simply no point anymore. She looked at him.

“You’re going to cut me off?”

“No. You’re still my mother, I’ll still see you. Just know that…that from now on I will shelve every one of your best interests in favour of Jiyong’s.” Seunghyun couldn’t cut her out of his life completely, he _couldn’t_ , not now he had lost his father’s good opinion too – the older man had never completely forgiven him for Haewon. Seunghyun saw his mother flush, and continued. “You were both my precious family, and that’s how I loved you: different, but equal. Now, though, you’ve shown me _definitively_ that he’s the better person. So from here on in, he comes first. Are we clear, Mom?”

“Clear as crystal.” Seunghyun nodded, and helped her into her coat.

“You want me to call you a taxi?”

“No thank you, dear, I can manage on my own.”

The guilt trip had no effect on him, he found; that might have seemed liberating if he hadn’t felt so _blunted_. Seunghyun saw her downstairs, then left her in the entrance hall to make her phone call. He retreated back upstairs to his library, opened the safe and took out the bottle of Scotch he’d deemed too fancy to drink for ages.

After a while Jiyong came in, sat down in his lap and poured himself a glass. His eyes were red. He rested his head on top of Seunghyun’s, and they both slowly exhaled. Seunghyun immediately felt the numbness around him begin to dissipate.

“…Your mom is the scariest person I know,” said Jiyong with a little laugh. Seunghyun nodded; he had nothing but admiration for his brother right now.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t stand up for you better. After everything else you’ve been through... But still you put up with it. You’re like a saint or something,” he told Jiyong, who sighed.

“Nope. Just practical.”

“That’s what she said, too.” Seunghyun wound his arms around the smaller man.

“I know you got upset,” said Jiyong. He poured Seunghyun another drink. “You always do. That’s what your medicine’s for, to help you deal with this crazy family! But you know,” he added, when Seunghyun nodded despondently, “you don’t really _need_ me and her to get on. What you need is to know where everyone stands, and for everyone to stop taking their dislike out on _you_. Now we have. You’re welcome.”

“She was _so rude_.”

“Yeah, she made me cry alright – she still makes me feel about twelve. So, having her ignore me is a small price to pay to keep her comments to herself. You think I care if she never speaks to me directly?” Jiyong laughed. “Frankly, it seems a good deal.”

“Are you _sure_ you’re okay?” Seunghyun couldn’t understand why everyone didn’t love this man as much as him.

“Yes. Although, if you wanna make me feel even better…”

“Name it,” said Seunghyun. He would give Jiyong anything he wanted.

“Let’s go on vacation,” suggested Jiyong. “As soon as my promotion’s finished. We’ve never done that before, not even when we were kids.” Their father had thought it was too much hard work to take two feuding teenagers abroad.

“Of course we can. Where d’you want to go?” Jiyong beamed.

“One of those fancy tropical places; my treat.” He leaned in to brush his body against Seunghyun’s. “Sun, sea, sand…” Seunghyun stretched up to meet his lips. “…And the other,” Jiyong agreed, kissing him back ardently. “A week with me on a desert island and I promise you’ll have forgotten _allll_ about this.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As most of us know, some family conflicts sadly never get solved. This is one of them, but I kind of wanted to show them dealing with it.  
> Next chapter: vacation time! :)
> 
> Only two chapters left now. That means this whole thing will be done by...end of next week. Feeling a bit weird about that ^^;


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys go on an idyllic vacation and Seunghyun tries to accommodate Jiyong's emerging taste for exhibitionism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Entire reason for initially writing this chapter: I want a tropical holiday! But I can't have one, so they get one instead :)

“See?” said Jiyong, stretching luxuriously in the warm, honeyed air. “Don’t you think this’ll take your mind off things?” Seunghyun smiled at him and carried their cases into the villa. The staff had brought their luggage up from the boat, and would probably have unpacked it all and put it away too if Seunghyun hadn’t stopped them at the door and sent them off.

“This place is crazy,” the older man called over his shoulder. “I thought you were taking me to a hotel. I didn’t realise we’d get a whole palace!” Jiyong trotted in after him before he caught the sun. The residence was huge: shady, open-plan rooms panelled in light golden wood and scattered with plump white furniture. Every room featured huge windows that opened onto the ocean or the lush gardens behind. Seunghyun was already examining the paintings and bespoke chairs with interest. “I swear I know the architect,” he said, smoothing his hand across a wall.

“We don’t just get this place.” Jiyong took his brother by the shoulders from behind and propelled him over to one of the broad decks overlooking the beach. “We get the whole island.”

“Seriously?”

“Yup.”

“ _You’re_ crazy.” Seunghyun flopped down on a sun-lounger and gave Jiyong a resigned grin. “You must’ve spent a fortune.”

“Who cares?” He had; it was pretty shocking even to him, but it was worth it. The island was an atoll in the Maldives, almost an hour by private yacht from the airport. Jiyong loved holidays, but it was tricky when you were both famous and horribly busy: mini-breaks on Jeju were all very well, but he had wanted to do it properly for a long time. And now here he was with his beloved.

“I’m hungry!” yelled said beloved into the depths of the house, where Jiyong was exploring and applying sunscreen. “Is there a restaurant or a store or something?!”

“Here.” Jiyong located the house phone and took it out to him. “Press 1. We have a personal chef on call, and butlers and cleaners and maids and a bartender and a masseur and a _marine biologist_ , and-”

“Stop!” Seunghyun was chuckling to himself.

“If you want sushi and spa treatments at midnight, just press that and they’ll serve you wherever. They only speak English, but that won’t bother you.”

“ _Ridiculous_.”

“I know,” said Jiyong, shifting the huge sun umbrella to put his chair in the shade and sinking gracefully down. “Mmm. Well go on then, call them, I’m starving!”

“I’m gonna get _all_ the wine.”

“Whatever you like. I told you it’s my treat.”

“Love you,” announced Seunghyun, with an indolent sigh. “You little spendthrift.” Jiyong lay back, gazed up at the blue, blue sky, and felt the burdens of the real world float away.

 

* * *

 

 

After three days on their hidden holiday Jiyong had indeed forgotten about Seunghyun’s mother. To his relief he saw it was doing Seunghyun some good too: it was years since the older man had been this relaxed. Jiyong could tell it was genuine as soon as his brother’s natural goofiness came out; for the first time in a decade he truly felt they could _play_. Jiyong would have been quite content with lazing in the shady end of the pool or being massaged all day long, but Seunghyun dragged him out windsurfing and diving and on sea-plane trips for picnics on picturesque sandbanks. Seunghyun found that the island had a jungle gym as well as the standard machines, and with the excitement of a schoolkid forced Jiyong to do some exercise.

“If you want…physical activity,” gasped Jiyong as Seunghyun fell off the monkey bars and lay there cackling to himself, “…I can think of some much better alternatives!” Seunghyun got off his ass and tugged Jiyong down from the rope bridge, catching the smaller man in his arms.

“After lunch.” Jiyong wound his legs around Seunghyun’s waist and pouted at him. “I’m gonna learn to make Maldivian curry, Chef said he’d give me lessons.”

“Am I not hotter than _curry_?” inquired Jiyong, speaking teasingly into his ear. Seunghyun let out a soft rumble.

“All right. Indoors, quick!” Jiyong wriggled out of his grip and ran panting back to the villa and up the stairs to ruin the perfectly made master bed. He could hear Seunghyun laughing behind him.

“…Oh my God,” managed Seunghyun, once they were done. “You are wearing me out! You’re like the Duracell bunny!” Jiyong kissed him untidily and went to open the French doors. He liked walking around naked, and every day he managed to get Seunghyun to shed a bit more clothing – as though each garment that came off represented one of his brother’s mental burdens.

“Go make lunch then,” he said, letting the warm breeze dry his damp skin. “I want you refuelled for tonight.” Seunghyun groaned happily behind him. Jiyong lay down in the shade and let his eyes slide closed.

 

Jiyong didn’t get to enjoy any escapades that night, thanks to a bad case of sunburn and Seunghyun being stung on the butt by a jellyfish while he was snorkelling. Jiyong waited until the marine biologist assured them it wasn’t serious, then laughed at Seunghyun until his stomach hurt. They spent the night kissing, reading each other ghost stories off the Internet, and trying not to let the bedsheets touch their respective sore bits.

By the next evening Seunghyun was slightly better, and the burning in Jiyong’s back had faded to tender sensitivity. He stepped out onto the deck after dinner; it was twilight, the air warm as new milk, and the tropical night birds were just beginning to call. Seunghyun was swimming laps in the pool. When he spotted Jiyong he stopped dead, coughed, then spat out water and held out his arms peremptorily.

“Jesus, get in before someone sees you!” Jiyong paused for a moment, letting Seunghyun absorb the sight of him naked – he was back up to a healthy weight these days, and he _knew_ he looked good. Then he jumped in. “You’re so bad,” Seunghyun scolded him when he came up for air.

“What? I’m exploring my boundaries.” Jiyong trod water, too short to touch bottom and breathe at the same time. Seunghyun stood and watched him; Jiyong could tell the older man wanted to kiss him, and wondered if he would. They’d never really done anything outside before, though for Jiyong it had always been a fantasy. This might be a good test of how much his brother had let go.

“Sometimes I think you don’t _have_ any boundaries,” said Seunghyun; his lovely eyes widened as Jiyong slowly swam closer, but he didn’t move away.

“Gonna explore yours, too,” Jiyong warned him. He slid his arms around Seunghyun, loving the smoothness of his wet skin. They had done it in the bath dozens of times, so this shouldn’t feel too weird for his brother. Seunghyun shot a nervous glance around the pool, as if the island staff had nothing better to do than spend their dinnertime re-enacting _Rear Window_ in the bushes. Jiyong hugged him fondly; once he felt the bigger man relax he groped for the waistband of his shorts and tried to ease them down.

“Uh-uh!” exclaimed Seunghyun. “Unlike you _I_ have some natural modesty!”

“Oh?” Jiyong drew back just enough to kiss him, and whatever Seunghyun _said_ didn’t matter when he returned it this hungrily. Jiyong slid his fingers beneath his shorts, and in seconds Seunghyun was hard. “That change your mind?” he murmured against his lips.

“That made it worse!”

“Oh, all right.” Jiyong disentangled himself and let Seunghyun wade off to a safe distance. His brother went and lurked by the pool steps, peering at him suspiciously through the dark. Jiyong ignored him and did a bit of swimming. When he stopped he saw Seunghyun had grabbed the wine bottle from the edge of the shallow end and by the looks of it had downed about half. Jiyong smirked, dove under and swam his way stealthily over to the steps.

“You gonna share that?” he asked, resurfacing and leaning against Seunghyun’s back while he was reaching out for the fruit bowl.

“…Here,” said Seunghyun, and passed him the bottle. Jiyong took a swig, gave it back, and folded his arms across his brother’s broad shoulders.

“Feeling better?” Jiyong pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. “Now you’ve had some Dutch courage…”

“We can’t,” said Seunghyun stubbornly. “If someone saw us…”

“There’s nobody here.”

“If they saw us,” continued Seunghyun, apparently in full paranoid mode, “they’d _know_.”

“Know what, Tabi?” Jiyong kissed him again.

“…What we’re doing.”

“They do already, idiot.” Why else would two people come to a place like this? thought Jiyong, amused.

“Not from me they don’t!” Seunghyun told him indignantly. Jiyong laughed and pressed closer.

“Of course they know what we’re doing. Why do you think they keep coming and making the bed?”

“Good customer service?”

“That’s right,” said Jiyong; he could see Seunghyun was anxious, but it was such fun to tease him. “ _Coco Prive_ : providing you with a five-star shagging experience, every time!”

“Christ.”

“So…” said Jiyong persuasively, “seeing as it’s no surprise…” He slid his hands down Seunghyun’s hips; the bigger man made a doubtful sound but didn’t complain at Jiyong’s second attempt to get him undressed. “There’s no reason not to do as we like! There,” Jiyong murmured, nudging closer. Doesn’t it feel good to skinny-dip with me?”

“Ow! My sting!”

“Sorry.” Jiyong let his fingers glide apologetically over Seunghyun’s magnificent ass. His brother made a low sound deep in his throat; Jiyong squeezed, to make him do it again. “There’s no-one around,” he said softly, his free hand dropping to Seunghyun’s erection and beginning to tease. “Can I have you right here? I _really_ want to.”

“… _Yes_ ,” managed Seunghyun with a gasp that was half embarrassment and half desire.

“Yes what?”

“…Yes, baby, I want you,” Seunghyun confided, in a whisper so low even Jiyong could barely hear it. “Want your fingers inside me…” Jiyong cast a grateful look at the bottle of wine and felt his own excitement rise.

“ _Awesome_.”

He laid his head against Seunghyun’s wet shoulder-blade and proceeded to play with him until the older man was biting his lip to hold in the sweet sound of his moans. Seunghyun was clutching the cool stone edge of the pool, his perfect face just visible under the deck lights. Jiyong pressed and stroked and teased, and found himself grinning breathlessly as he watched his brother’s self-awareness wash away into the water.

“You want me to go get the lube?” murmured Jiyong; he had to nip the shell of Seunghyun’s ear to get his attention. “Another finger and I can make you come…”

“Don’t need it, don’t stop,” Seunghyun ordered, one hand reaching round to guide Jiyong’s wrist. “Please…!” Jiyong loved it when that deep, sensual voice turned vulnerable. He plastered himself eagerly against Seunghyun’s back and brought him to orgasm without any more delay. Seunghyun didn’t even try to hide his cry of pleasure, and Jiyong embraced him triumphantly.

“…Get out,” managed Seunghyun at last, turning to grab Jiyong’s waist and boost him out of the pool. Jiyong sat there, terribly aroused, and watched Seunghyun climb up the steps and stalk towards him. His body in the moonlight, the water sparkling silver on his tanned skin, was the most intensely erotic thing the smaller man could imagine. “You’re a perfect little devil,” Seunghyun told him. He was still out of breath, but managed to pick Jiyong up like a sack of potatoes and lug him bodily over to a recliner. “Gonna get you back!”

“Right here?” asked Jiyong, shivering in anticipation.

“Right here.” And without further ado Seunghyun sank to his knees, hooked Jiyong’s plump thighs over his shoulders, and blew him until Jiyong was in a state of such ecstasy he was sure they _would_ hear his shouts right across the island.

“…Fuck me,” said Jiyong afterwards, as they lay naked on the recliner letting the night breeze cool their bare skin. “I’ll make an exhibitionist of you yet, Tabi.”

“You said there was no-one around,” pointed out Seunghyun languidly. “So I guess it was okay.”

“Yeah, right, just _okay_.” Seunghyun kissed him; he tasted like wine.

“Maybe…if we upgrade our home security to _Scarface_ levels…”

“I haven’t seen that.”

“Shut up. If I do…then maybe we can do this in _our_ pool.”

“Maybe we can do it anywhere! The house is miles from the road.”

“I want to,” agreed Seunghyun cautiously. He looked out at the calm black Indian Ocean. “It does feel…special to be like this with you. With the nature and all.” Jiyong was pleased; perhaps the personal beachfront yoga sessions were turning his brother into a hippie, and Jiyong was _all_ about free love. “But it has to be private,” the older man went on. “Absolutely. Imagine if anyone found out…”

“Yeah,” said Jiyong, wistful. He combed Seunghyun’s hair lovingly through his fingers. “Imagine.”

 

* * *

 

 

On the final day they ate the most luxurious dishes the chef had to offer and lay all afternoon on the flawless white sand of the beach. Seunghyun had found the whole week a quite surreal experience – it was so far removed from their real life that he had succumbed to every one of Jiyong’s whimsical or scandalous desires with almost no complaint. Just for now. Looking at his brother tucked safely in the shadow of the beach umbrella, lying silent with a satisfied smile curling his lips, Seunghyun wondered if Jiyong’s line between fantasy and reality was as sharply drawn as his own.

“…Wake up, Tabi,” drawled Jiyong without opening his eyes. “Wanna shower before dinner.”

“I am awake.” Seunghyun pulled Jiyong to his feet and waited while he brushed excess sand off himself. They left their towels and debris where they lay; someone would clear up after them. Seunghyun wished _that_ would happen back home, especially regarding Jiyong’s washing-up and laundry. Maybe it was time to get a proper housekeeper.

“What d’you fancy for our last dinner?” he asked once they were showered and changed. Jiyong looked pure and radiant in a soft, loose white shirt and shorts.

“I already ordered it.” Jiyong slung a Hermès bag over his shoulder, stuck his feet into flip-flops and led Seunghyun out. They strolled up and away from the beach, across the lush green vegetation of the atoll.

“We’re not going to the kitchen?” enquired Seunghyun as they passed the familiar complex with its inviting lights.

“Hush and come on.” Jiyong wandered into the trees, and as the canopy hid them from the building he took Seunghyun’s hand, as tranquil and happy as Seunghyun had ever hoped for.

They emerged on the other side of the island. Seunghyun heard his brother take a gratified breath, and immediately saw why. Ahead of them was a low, grassy cliff that looked over the beach. Far out to sea the sun was going down in a ball of molten gold, and the sky was shot with orange and vivid pink. If Jiyong had been a location scout he couldn’t have picked a better spot.

“There,” said Jiyong, and nudged him. Seunghyun looked to his left, and there someone had erected a sprawling white tent; it glowed gently in the deepening evening. When he got round to the front he saw it was open to the sunset. Displayed artfully around the entrance was a collection of low, pearly tables bearing plates of oysters and sushi and the caviar Jiyong loved simply because it was expensive.

“Yum,” said Jiyong. Seunghyun noticed cheese and desserts too, among the decorative seashells, and an ice bath with several bottles of wine. He crouched down to examine them; they were all his particular favourites, and hard to find.

“How long were you planning this?” he asked quietly.

“Not long.” Jiyong shrugged and slung his bag into the tent. “They’re very accommodating.”

Seunghyun didn’t reply. The tent was lit by a canopy of hanging lamps, and carried the tropical scent of the flowers meandering around the walls. The floor was covered with an inviting layer of white bedding. Seunghyun pressed down on it: not just comfortable, decadent. He went back outside and continued to explore in silence; he could feel Jiyong watching him, and sensed he was nervous.

“What is this – is this a Jacuzzi?!” Seunghyun exclaimed. “How did they even-”

“I told you,” said Jiyong, following him round. “They can tailor things to your needs _exactly_.” Seunghyun opened his mouth, shut it again as Jiyong took his hand.

“Let’s just have dinner,” he said, giving up. “I need a drink.”

They sat outside the Arabian Nights tent and ate. When the sun had disappeared and Seunghyun had had a few goes at the Château d’Yquem – Jiyong was keeping his glass full – his brother turned to him.

“I wanted it to be special,” confessed Jiyong. “And I figured, after the other night outside…you wouldn’t mind. But you’re worried again, aren’t you.”

“The other night was _secret_.” Jiyong had to understand the difference, he wasn’t stupid. “This, how many people were involved in planning this Hollywood romance?” The younger man ate a spoonful of gateau thoughtfully and made no comment. “They know now for sure,” Seunghyun continued; the thought was frightening enough to giddy him. “ _No-one_ could get a request like this and not assume we’re lovers.”

“They can assume away.” Jiyong licked his spoon and refilled Seunghyun’s glass. “It doesn’t matter.”

“How can you say that?! You’re a star in a conservative society, and your reputation’s already shaky.”

“We’re not in Korea now, Tabi.” Why did Jiyong sound so maddeningly calm? No, more than that, eager. “What happens in the Maldives stays in the Maldives.”

“You can’t guarantee that. There must be twenty staff on this island who now have evidence you’re fucking me.” Jiyong smiled his sweetest, most infuriating smile, and leaned back on his elbows beside Seunghyun.

“It’s not their business, they don’t care. They’re paid not to.” He looked up at Seunghyun fondly. “Besides, for all they know you could be my husband!” Seunghyun caught himself thawing a bit at that image, but quickly got himself worked up again. Jiyong was too trusting!

“But I’m not. I’m your brother. What if they know _that_? And even if _they_ get paid too much to mind, what if someone outside finds out?” Jiyong reached up and rubbed his shoulder in a vaguely patronising way. Seunghyun glared at him.

“That’s the reason this place costs so much – ooh, Tabi, you don’t even wanna know how much. It’s not just the facilities and the service, it’s the discretion. You think Richard Branson or whoever wants people to know his kinky little vices? No. That’s why resorts like this exist: it’s family-owned, no outside staff. It’s simply not to their advantage to talk about what their clients get up to.”

“But you’re not just rich; you’re a _celebrity_.” Jiyong laughed.

“I don’t think they care about Korean pop stars. I mean, their usual clientele are multi-billionaires. Compared to that I’m very small potatoes.”

“What does that make me?” asked Seunghyun, finally a tiny bit amused. Jiyong sat up and patted his cheek.

“Practically a peasant.”

“…Why did you really do this?” Seunghyun said at last. The week had been idyllic enough without this fairytale spectacle. “It’s lovely, baby. But why?” Jiyong was quiet for a long time. His black eyes travelled over Seunghyun’s face, took in his posture, evaluating. “Just tell me,” encouraged the older man. Jiyong flopped back down in the grass and shrugged.

“I think…I wanted someone to know. I wanted to show off.” Seunghyun groaned; that sounded pretty believable. “Since Youngbae’s wedding,” Jiyong explained, “we’ve done all sorts of things to show the world that we’re close. But you’re right, we ought to be careful at home.” He let out a plaintive sigh. “So still no-one really sees it – except maybe a couple of hundred kinky fangirls, and nobody cares what they think.”

“Good!” Jiyong made a helpless gesture, like he was failing to get his point across.

“It’s just…don’t you ever feel we’re living in a bubble? As if what we have together doesn’t exist outside ourselves…”

“No.” But Seunghyun was edging towards an understanding of what he meant – not agreement, nowhere near – but comprehension. That wedding had triggered something in him, too, the urge to publicly display his love for Jiyong. He had been afraid at the time that Jiyong would feel frustrated they couldn’t; but his brother had got over it, and now they’d built the house they had attained real contentment. So Seunghyun had thought.

“I’m not trying to out us, I swear. But say something happened; I’m rich enough,” Jiyong said rashly, “that neither of us would ever have to work again. If it came down to that. We could run away, go live on some paradise island…”

“Like this?” Seunghyun gestured to the tropical isolation around them. “This isn’t real life, you know that. If we _had_ to be here, if you had to leave everything behind because of what people knew about us…you’d hate it.”

“…You’re right.” Jiyong leaned against him. “Of course you are, I’m not an idiot. I just…sometimes I get so frustrated I can’t bear it!” Seunghyun sighed, reached down and touched the smaller man’s hair.

“I know, baby.” He did. Theoretically.

“You _do_ get it, Tabi,” said Jiyong, hope rising on his exquisite features. “And that’s why. Even if it’s only these strangers – even if we never see them again – I want someone to know we’re _real_.”

“Will it make you happy?” That was always the final question; time and again Seunghyun found it was really the only one that counted. For an answer Jiyong reached up and pulled the older man down onto him. Seunghyun framed that small, perfect face with his hands, and Jiyong gazed up at him through the dusk. The sight of his smile was enough: with that Seunghyun laid aside his reservations and personal phobias, and kissed him. Right there in the open, for anyone to see.

Jiyong crushed his brother to him, then inhaled sharply as the weight pressed his sunburnt back against the ground. Seunghyun got off and gathered up some of the cushions to save Jiyong’s knees. By the time he sat down again Jiyong was naked; the smaller man climbed into his lap and kissed him back ravenously. Was it the prospect of being found out making him this aroused, wondered Seunghyun, or the pleasure of having his big brother give in to him?

“ _Thank you_ , Tabi,” Jiyong whispered, lips on his neck and nimble hands undressing him. Seunghyun ran his fingertips over the tender skin of his back, to hear his soft moan harmonize with the breeze and the chirp of insects. Once he had kissed every part of Jiyong’s tattooed body he could reach, Seunghyun was completely ready. Jiyong fetched the lube – he’d at least had the discretion to bring _that_ himself – and Seunghyun spent as long as possible opening him up until his brother was clutching at the nape of his neck and begging him for more.

“That’s right,” muttered Seunghyun gutturally as Jiyong finally guided him in. “ _Ahh_ , Jiyong…”

Jiyong took a shuddering breath and began to move, deeper and deeper until Seunghyun thought he could see stars. He realised they _were_ stars, a swirling canvas of constellations caught in the curtain of Jiyong’s black hair; if Seunghyun looked up further he could see the moon above them with a clarity that was impossible in the city. When he tried to expand his consciousness beyond the silk and heat of Jiyong’s body he caught the susurrus of the waves, and found that his brother was moving in time with them as though rhythm was intrinsic to his being. Seunghyun smelled flowers, and salt, and the scent that was Jiyong, all his senses crashing together to create something more _vast_ than any sex you could have in a bedroom. He had never experienced anything like it, and in that moment he forgave Jiyong for his rashness; he was grateful to be here, and didn’t care who else knew it.

“Tabi…” breathed Jiyong beseechingly; his arms were tight around Seunghyun’s neck. “C’mon, I’m nearly there…! Together…”

Seunghyun took a firm grips on his hips and pushed him down hard, feeling the smooth flesh give voluptuously beneath his fingers. He heard Jiyong moan, a delighted sound that made him catch his breath and move faster. Jiyong tipped his beautiful head back and laughed, clear and carrying in the night air. Seunghyun clutched at him, thrust up into him and came with his face buried in Jiyong’s shoulder. He felt the smaller man constrict around him, the quiver of his flat stomach that told Seunghyun he was close. Seunghyun closed his fingers over Jiyong’s cock – he had barely touched him before Jiyong climaxed, pushing him down on his back to collapse on top of him.

“Ohh…” Jiyong’s limbs went limp. “ _That_ was what I wanted. Exactly.” Seunghyun raised his chin and kissed him, both of them gasping harshly for breath. They lay there for a while in the grass; Seunghyun felt almost hypnotized by the tempo of Jiyong’s heartbeat and the chorus of the world around them. He wondered if Jiyong could put them in a song. That way he would always remember tonight, just as it was.

After some time Jiyong took Seunghyun by the hand and dragged him to his feet, luring him like a siren down the cliff path towards the water. Seunghyun had never imagined in his whole life that he would be walking around a beach naked – he didn’t even like to take his pants off in front of the cat! – but here he was in the sea, Jiyong’s strong body against his.

Seunghyun quickly discovered that their – admittedly transcendent – sex had aggravated both his jellyfish sting and Jiyong’s sunburn. They skinny-dipped in the salt water just long enough to say they’d done it, then washed themselves pink and pristine in the hot tub. By then the moon had moved overhead and a different set of birds was singing. Seunghyun finally collapsed with his brother on the sumptuous bedding inside the tent. Jiyong let down the muslin net, which kept out insects but not the night.

“Thank you,” he said again, lowering his voice as Seunghyun blinked sleepily. When the older man shut his eyes he could still feel the rock of the waves. “For indulging me. Always.”

“Welcome,” mumbled Seunghyun. He laid his head on Jiyong’s shoulder, and was out like a light.

 

Jiyong woke up to the feeling of Seunghyun’s hair tickling his stomach. He arched his back languidly and stretched.

“Mmn…is it morning?” he asked without opening his eyes.

“More or less.” Seunghyun was kissing him, past his belly button and down; when his jaw brushed Jiyong’s hip he could feel the slight roughness where Seunghyun hadn’t shaved. Jiyong gave a slow squirm of enjoyment. There was a light wind rustling the tent, cooling the damp spots left by Seunghyun’s lips as he worked his way lower, and the background was filled with the sounds of life from the vegetation around them. Jiyong threaded his fingers into his brother’s hair as Seunghyun squeezed his ass; this had to be the best alarm clock ever.

When Seunghyun was done with his wake-up call Jiyong opened his eyes and returned the favour. They lay there talking a few minutes until the sun worked its way into the tent. Then Jiyong pushed past the fine netting and crawled out to enjoy the light on his bare skin.

“Breakfast!” he announced: the tables from the night before had magically been cleared and replaced with fruit and crisp French pastries in a covered dish; they weren’t even cold yet.

“…When did _that_ happen?” demanded Seunghyun, emerging to blink in bewilderment at the spread.

“Must’ve been just before you woke up.”

“Then they saw your famous ass butt-naked,” Seunghyun said, blushing scarlet. “Not like this netting hides anything.” He sounded aghast, but only mildly.

“And yours!” Jiyong reminded him.

“ _I_ had a sheet on when I woke up.”

“Thank god for your natural-born prudery.” Jiyong smirked to himself as Seunghyun ducked inside to don the sheet again just in case. He bit into a slice of melon. “Come on and eat. I reckon there’s just time to go swimming before we pack.”

Seunghyun picked up a croissant and stared at it for a second before Jiyong saw his face turn white.

“Oh my God.”

“What is it?” demanded Jiyong in concern.

“…I was taking lessons with the chef, right?” said Seunghyun in an absent kind of voice, getting pastry flakes everywhere.

“Yeah, and?”

“We talked a lot while we were waiting for stuff to cook. About, oh, I don’t know, the island and work and things.” He looked up at Jiyong. “…He _definitely_ knows you’re my brother.”

“Are you sure?” asked Jiyong after a minute.

“I’m sure.” Seunghyun’s handsome face was stricken. The younger man shuffled closer to take his arm. “I’m _so sorry_.”

“Tabi,” said Jiyong, trying to comfort him, “we had this whole conversation not twelve hours ago. You came to terms with it then, didn’t you? That I don’t care.” He really didn’t. But that wasn’t enough, Jiyong now understood, not if he couldn’t convince his brother to think the same way; Seunghyun looked scared to death, and guilty again, as if he had made no progress at all this past week.

“That was before I remembered my big mouth!” replied Seunghyun, clutching the sheet tighter around himself.

“Are you ashamed of me?” Jiyong said quietly.

“You know I’m not!”

“Wasn’t last night incredible, once you let go?”

“It _was_. But that’s not the-”

“Well.” Jiyong squeezed his arm. “That’s how I feel now I know someone knows.” He understood why his brother was afraid, of course he did. But the older he got the more he yearned to share what they had with someone. It would be better if it was someone who cared about them – that was of course impossible, though, so Jiyong had chosen to do it this way. He was almost sure it was safe; and it was such a relief.

“…I want to take care of you,” Seunghyun told him, and took his hand. “I’m glad you don’t mind. But _please_ don’t put yourself in danger just to satisfy this…whatever it is. If something else happened to you I don’t think I could handle it!”

“Sshh, calm down.” Jiyong gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m not gonna jeopardise us, not ever, not after what it took us to get here.” He pulled Seunghyun’s head down to rest against his shoulder; that big brain, always ready to throw up a new worry!

“If you must talk to someone,” said Seunghyun, still incredibly earnest, “then tell your therapist. At least she’s under oath to keep it to herself!”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” agreed Jiyong, and kissed him. “Now, are you gonna bother getting dressed or are we going to walk back like this?”

The older man gave him a grudging smile and went to get changed. Jiyong spent a final minute naked at the grassy edge of the cliff, soaking in the warmth and the salt spray drawn by the wind off the ocean. He felt sublime.

“All right,” he said at last, returning to don the oversized shirt Seunghyun had thrown in his direction. He held out his hand and Seunghyun took it, gripped it trustingly. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

 

A month after their holiday Seunghyun returned from a much more boring business trip. He called Jiyong’s name into the intercom that broadcast to his brother’s side of the house; it was too big to go checking every room. No reply, so he put his shoes back on and went out into the grounds. When at last he found him, lounging on the tree sculpture seats in the wooded part of the garden, Seunghyun saw there was a woman with him. Seunghyun approved of female visitors, it helped Jiyong’s reputation, which had been a balancing act ever since he’d left the Army early and was still something Seunghyun worried about – lately for very good reason. As he got up close, however, he realised it was Haewon. She had Jiyong’s cat in her lap.

“Tabi!” said Jiyong, looking surprised but not displeased as his brother rocked up. “I didn’t think you’d be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“…Yeah,” said Seunghyun awkwardly. “The last meeting got cancelled.” He could feel himself flushing, not just with embarrassment but because he knew his ex had never wanted to see him again.

“Hello, Seunghyun.” Haewon’s voice was as sweet and serene as he remembered it, though when Seunghyun managed to look at her she had gone pink too.

“Hi.” Goddammit, he sounded shy. Only Jiyong looked happy about the situation.

“Sit,” he instructed Seunghyun. “Are we adults, or what?”

“But…”

“It’s all right,” Haewon said, sipping a chilled glass of Chablis that Jiyong had clearly pinched from Seunghyun’s private fridge. So he sat down and quickly grabbed Jiyong’s glass for himself; he needed a drink.

“I was giving _noona_ a tour,” Jiyong told him, smiling as if this picture wasn’t totally weird. “Her being a landscape designer and all.”

“Your gardens are beautiful.” Her voice held the enthusiastic note that Seunghyun recognised from the old days, when she had been captivated by a project. He was surprised to discover that he had missed it. “I like these sculptures, who did them?”

“A grad student from K-ARTS,” Seunghyun explained, doing his best to behave normally. “I’ll give you his details if you like.”

“Okay.”

Jiyong sat there and beamed at them, occasionally bolstering their small talk to keep it flowing, and gradually the conversation became…not comfortable, but less hideously embarrassing. Seunghyun had always wondered why the younger man maintained his friendship with Haewon so assiduously – apart from the fact that she was a great woman. Now, looking at Jiyong’s face, he thought that seeing her happy must be a relief to his brother’s conscience. Not that Jiyong had been the one responsible for hurting her – but he had _felt_ it. Seeing her again for the first time, Seunghyun could sense her aura of wellbeing, and there was no doubt about it: it did feel good.

Jiyong trotted across to the house to fetch more wine and snacks. Deliberately, Seunghyun was sure. There was a silence after he had gone.

“Oh, congratulations,” said Seunghyun after a minute, because it was something any polite person ought to say. He nodded at Haewon’s left hand, where a small gold and topaz ring gleamed on her fourth finger. Jiyong had been really pleased when he’d told Seunghyun about her engagement. Seunghyun had been genuinely glad, too; but it still felt weird.

“Thanks!” Haewon smiled down at her hand. Her new fiancé was an archivist, which sounded like the kind of job that called for a drama-free personality. Seunghyun hoped so; she didn’t need any more of that.

They chatted about the wedding plans for a few minutes. But it was definitely a peculiar conversation for two ex-lovers to have, and before long Seunghyun had gone quiet again. Haewon let him, and when he next glanced over he found her looking at him pensively.

“You two fit this place perfectly,” she said eventually. “Jiyong was so happy when you asked him, you know. You should’ve done it sooner; it could have saved us all a lot of…” She sighed. Seunghyun opened his mouth, closed it again, then gave in and bit the bullet; he had been wondering long enough, and Jiyong’s behaviour on holiday had brought it to the forefront of his mind.

“…You know, don’t you,” he said, folding his arms. He didn’t look at her. “For how long?” There was a lengthy pause.

“Since you left me,” Haewon informed him in a low voice. “Well. Before, really. I just…didn’t want to think about it, because I loved you. Even then.” Seunghyun sighed through his nose; it was almost a relief to hear her admit it, even phrased in the vaguest terms. He nearly understood what Jiyong meant, now.

“But you didn’t tell anyone.”

“Why would I?” She sounded slightly offended, and Seunghyun had to remind himself she was simply not like other people. “It’s not their business.”

“Because it’s so…” Seunghyun didn’t want to use any of the words their situation conjured up.

“It’s disturbing,” said Haewon frankly, though without censure. Yeah, that was one of them; Seunghyun grimaced. “When I first figured it out, I was _scared_.” Seunghyun was impressed she hadn’t said ‘disgusted’, at least. “Because you know,” continued Haewon, “when you read about cases like this there’s almost always abuse on one side or other… And he’s younger, and smaller, and you resented him when he was a kid. So yeah, I was scared for him.”

“I would _never_ ,” Seunghyun announced hotly. The idea that he could ever do anything Jiyong didn’t want appalled him.

“I know that,” she assured him. “Because he’s so happy. And he deserves that, so…there you are.”

Through his discomfort, Seunghyun felt a spark of the old fondness that had surfaced whenever Haewon was sweet to his brother. It was one of the reasons he had loved her, and seemed doubly precious now in contrast to his mother’s attitude. He exhaled slowly, and met her eyes.

“I don’t expect you to like me,” he said quietly, “or approve of us. Especially after the way I treated you. But you’re good for my brother, and that’s all that’s ever mattered to me.” He sensed her thaw a little bit. “Come to the house whenever you want. You can do stuff to the grounds if you like; Jiyong’s not bad with a spade. And let’s be civil.”

“All right.” Haewon gave him a cool, appraising look. “I can do that. Just…keep treating him right.”

“I will.” Seunghyun hesitated. “And when you see that I am…when you see that we’re good together…”

“Yes?”

“…Tell him, will you?” He sighed. “He wants someone to know so badly.” Haewon’s eyes widened. Then she nodded.

They dropped back into thoughtful silence. When Jiyong finally emerged, Seunghyun felt Haewon’s eyes on his face, observing the way he interacted with his brother. It was slightly invasive; but when she relaxed in her seat, apparently satisfied, Seunghyun felt some old, old guilt fall away. He could trust her, he knew; and if Jiyong _could_ share his secret with her, this person he respected and cared for, it might finally bring him some peace. Seunghyun wanted that more than anything.

Jiyong smiled at him as he talked, touched his wrist, and still the warm sensation persisted. Seunghyun basked in the late sunshine, and hoped that this was their future.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In researching for this chapter I discovered resorts for the super-rich are _insane_. Anything that seems OTT on their holiday is really tame compared to what these places offer! o_o
> 
> Also: I knew keeping Haewon around would be handy. Hopefully she can be the outside support Jiyong needs once again.
> 
> Only one chapter left now. It'll be something in the nature of an epilogue, but hopefully it'll fulfill my happy ending promise. It's gonna be so sappy you guys... XD


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Seunghyun helps Jiyong celebrate a very special birthday, and we leave the boys to their lives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is one fluffy sappy chapter! But hopefully sufficiently sexy as well ;)

To Seunghyun’s amazement, the future was everything he had wished for and hadn’t dared imagine. He almost couldn’t believe it: that he and Jiyong could at last have a happy and peaceful life together. But that was the way it was going, and no amount of public gossip, parental disapproval or personal guilt seemed to put a dent in Jiyong’s wellbeing or Seunghyun’s own slow-blossoming joy. With every year that passed Seunghyun got more used to it, to the point where he had to remind himself not to take it for granted. He grew accustomed to his ageing parents’ resignation to their living together – and to Jiyong, for the first time in his life, writing songs with a happy ever after. One after another their friends and colleagues married and started families of their own, and Seunghyun didn’t care, because he was so clearly the luckiest human in the whole damn world; and it was all thanks to Jiyong. His brother was the one thing he _never_ took for granted.

“What?” said Jiyong in an indolent voice, crinkling his eyes and lolling his head back under the older man’s stare.

“…Just thinking,” Seunghyun replied; he came back to himself and gave Jiyong a smile. It was summer again, years and years now since they had sat here in the sheltered garden with Haewon – since Seunghyun had sworn to her he would make his little brother happy. Seunghyun recalled it vividly, his turbulent state of mind in those days; Jiyong’s happiness had been the only thing he thought he could guarantee back then, and even that had been a stretch – tranquility for himself had seemed like a faraway dream. But here they were again, and both of them at peace. It wasn’t far short of a miracle.

“So long as it’s about my birthday.” Jiyong stretched his legs out comfortably; he was draped over the weathered garden sculpture like a small, sleepy cat – his own middle-aged pet sprawled under the table, weighing down Seunghyun’s foot. Seunghyun had persuaded him to take some time off, and for once Jiyong had acquiesced; it was easier now he was his own boss.

“Birthday?” said Seunghyun innocently, closing the book he’d been failing to read. Jiyong shot him a look, then leaned forward to give him a warning tap on the cheek.

“You don’t wanna know what’ll happen if you forget.”

“You’re right about that.” The younger man smirked and kissed him quickly. “Not that I would!” added Seunghyun, gesturing to his own handsome head. “Like I could fail to notice the passage of time.” He was beginning to go stylishly grey at the temples; Jiyong thought it made him look distinguished, and said so frequently, just in case he started to get a complex about it.

“In twenty years you’ll be my silver fox,” Jiyong told him, combing his fingers through the older man’s hair admiringly before leaning back and grabbing the wine from its ice pail under the table. Seunghyun snorted, unable to tease back. Nobody knew what Jiyong’s hair was doing, it was never one colour long enough; but the general opinion in the fashion world was that he was still beautiful enough for it to be unbelievable he was turning forty. Even if Seunghyun had been the absent-minded type it was nigh impossible to forget about Jiyong’s upcoming birthday – it was all over the fan sites, not to mention the huge party Seungri was throwing for him.

“Thanks very much,” said Seunghyun, smoothing his hair back into place and hooking the bottle out of Jiyong’s grasp. “I’ll get you a card or something. Just ‘cos you’re such a charmer.”

“Mmm.” Jiyong grinned. “You don’t have to do anything, Tabi, not really, I was only teasing.”

“Duh.”

“You’re enough.” Jiyong shut his eyes. “You’ve always been enough.” He sat quietly for a minute, then cracked one open again. “Although…maybe some cake?”

Seunghyun gazed across the rolling lawn, and smiled privately. He thought he could just about beat that.

 

* * *

 

 

The night after his party Jiyong found himself in a quiet corner of the most snobbishly exclusive French restaurant in Seoul. Not that he was complaining. It was Seunghyun’s style when he was feeling serious: three Michelin stars, old and aristocratic, no edgy vibes or kooky tableware. Just this once Jiyong was grateful for the tranquil candlelight and low conversation; he’d been suffering a raging hangover right up to this afternoon, thanks to Seungri and his party girls and liquor. Jiyong wished, in hindsight, that he’d given his junior a worse punishment than the affectionate kiss he’d landed on him when Seunghyun’s back was turned. Still, it was his party, he could kiss who he liked.

Now they’d finished eating Jiyong was feeling a bit more human. He took a tentative sip of the Haut Brion from his birth year that Seunghyun had found him – he wasn’t about to waste _that_ , it must be near impossible to get it in an ’88 vintage these days, and besides, hair of the dog and all. Today he had entered his fifth decade; he wasn’t quite sure if he was celebrating or lamenting that fact, but the wine was definitely helping.

His brother smiled at him over the top of the candles. Seunghyun had been nursing his own sore head all morning, but had rallied himself into his most delectable three-piece suit by dinnertime. The soft light caught the strands of silver in his hair. Jiyong sighed in admiration.

“Full?” asked Seunghyun fondly, topping up his wine.

“Mmph. No more, please!” said Jiyong. The _pot au chocolat_ had just about finished him off, as had the sight of Seunghyun absently licking the rich dessert off his lips.

“Present, then?”

“I thought this was my present.” Jiyong took another quaff from his glass.

“Really? How often is my baby brother _forty_?”

“Not so loud!” chided Jiyong, to see him grin. He really hadn’t expected anything: he was hard to buy for, owning not only everything he needed but also everything he could conceivably want. Seunghyun’s gifts were limited by his imagination to art and alcohol, and Jiyong didn’t see any evidence of wrapped canvases around. But Seunghyun was reaching for something down by his chair.

“Happy birthday.” He pushed a flat box across the table. It wasn’t wrapped. Jiyong took it, excited as always at the prospect of acquiring more bling; it was obviously a jewellery case, covered in the softest black leather. Cartier? Tiffany? There was no maker’s mark. The older man didn’t usually get involved with Jiyong’s fashion, which made the box even more intriguing. “Just open it,” Seunghyun said, smiling. Jiyong beamed back at him.

“I’m making it last.” He ran his fingers over the box; it was about twenty centimetres square, and quite heavy. Not earrings, then. Something more extravagant. Well, he wasn’t…ugh, _forty_ …every day.

When at last he opened it he found he couldn’t react at all. He just sat and stared. It was a necklace, not a chain or pendant but a solid circle of metal curved like a crescent moon; Jiyong thought it was called a lunula, or a torque or something. His fashion-conscious eye told him it was white gold or platinum, and the design was so liquid and perfect it managed to look both ancient and futuristic at the same time, like a Bronze Age relic had collided with the T-1000. But that wasn’t what made him catch his breath. Embedded at the bottom of the necklace where the smooth metal flared widest was a sparkling red stone, about three centimetres across and perfectly round. It was the most beautiful ruby Jiyong had ever seen; and it was unmistakably real. He felt his hands start to shake.

“A jewel for my jewel,” said Seunghyun softly. For once he seemed not to care that other diners might be watching them. Bedazzled by both the stone and the gesture, Jiyong reached out blindly. Seunghyun took his hand and raised it quietly to his lips.

“It’s…spectacular,” Jiyong told him, a catch in his voice. It was as though his brother was over hiding how deeply he felt, and Jiyong found it almost unbearably touching; or perhaps it was the sheer beauty of the stone that made him want to cry. Jiyong knew he was a magpie, and he simply could not look away from its glitter.

“It’s called the Blood Moon,” Seunghyun explained. His deep voice took on a narrative lilt. “It’s the biggest red diamond in the world.” Jiyong swallowed heavily, and tightened his fingers on Seunghyun’s. “It was stolen from a Indian temple six hundred years ago by an Afghan soldier,” the older man continued, “and it’s come and gone through history ever since. It’s seen empires rise and fall; it’s been worn by queens and princes. At least fifty men have died for it, if you buy that sort of thing; the old stories say their blood gives it its colour. And it’s almost flawless: just like you.” Jiyong went pale with delight at the awful romance of it all. Seunghyun smiled. “So I bought it for you.”

“I…” Jiyong couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so he went with the first dumb thing that came into his head. “How _much_ was it?” he breathed, awed; his brother was very wealthy by most people’s standards, but _this_ … He heard Seunghyun burst out laughing, and winced; the magnificence of the gift had made him go socially tone-deaf.

“That’s my Jiyong!” Seunghyun said, sounding infinitely fond. He patted his brother’s hand. “Ten million dollars. One million per carat. Six centuries of history: all for you.”

Jiyong stared at the necklace, emotions suddenly warring between terror, covetousness, and pure love for the man in front of him.

“How…” he began.

“I saved up a _lot_ ,” admitted Seunghyun, beaming. “And I sold some paintings. It’s insured,” he added, peering carefully at Jiyong. “Can I assume you like it?”

“…Take me home,” whispered Jiyong urgently. His wide eyes were still fixed on the diamond.

“ _Gladly_.” Seunghyun raised his hand for the check.

 

They went home in one of Jiyong’s town cars; Seunghyun wasn’t about to get in a taxi with his brother holding something so ridiculously valuable. Jiyong had put the case back in its bag, once he could bear to close it and stop staring at the diamond, and was now in the back seat clutching the bag to his chest and looking dazed. Seunghyun was a cautious person, at least when it came to Jiyong’s wellbeing, and he would make sure the younger man and his treasure stayed safe. Sure, the Blood Moon had passed a peaceful half-century in the possession of the Mouawad jewel company without any more murderous incidents to add to its legend; but it still had a reputation.

That was part of what had caught Seunghyun’s attention when the diamond came up for auction last year: Jiyong was such a fancy creature, he deserved something more dramatic than a new unknown stone. Besides, its bloody history spoke to the old secret that lay between them – the terrible things Seunghyun had done in his name. It was also what had made him install a top-grade vault in his half of the house. It would be better for Jiyong to store the diamond at the bank; but Seunghyun suspected that his brother, with his addiction to anything that shone, would want to keep it where he could get his hands on it easily.

“So,” said Jiyong when they got into the house, shrugging off his jacket in the kitchen after placing the box down with incredible care while Seunghyun got himself a drink. “How am I to thank you for my birthday?” He looked up at Seunghyun and bit his lip teasingly.

“I should be the one doing the thanking.” Seunghyun had been in a solemn mood since the restaurant, reflecting on his stunning good fortune the whole car ride home.

“For what?” inquired Jiyong ingenuously.

“For you.” Seunghyun was surprised he even needed to ask. “You know you’re worth more than any diamond.” Jiyong’s expression softened and he walked towards Seunghyun to be praised at closer range.

“Tabi,” he said, and stopped. He sounded moved.

“We’ve been together almost twenty-five years,” Seunghyun stated quietly, gazing down at him. “One way or another. I can’t imagine what my life would have been without you.”

“Happy, I bet,” Jiyong told him. “You’re so extraordinary, Tabi, it would’ve always been amazing.”

“But not the same.”

“No,” agreed Jiyong fervently, and tipped his head back to be kissed. Seunghyun obliged eagerly; then as if drawn by a magnet Jiyong’s head was turning back in the direction of his birthday present. “I’m gonna go try it on,” the younger man said.

“Wait a sec.” Seunghyun kissed him again. “Let me show you how the clasp works.” Jiyong went to fetch the necklace and opened the box; Seunghyun could see his eyes sparkle almost lustfully. The younger man must have fallen in love at first sight. “Here, see?” said Seunghyun, and turned the circlet over to show him the hidden catch that opened a section of the smooth circle on almost invisible hinges.

“So clever,” admired Jiyong. “Who made it?”

“I had a team working on it,” Seunghyun explained. His fingers trailed over Jiyong’s on the necklace. “An artist, a jeweller and a watchmaker. For the catch and hinges, you know?”

“So much effort just for me.” Jiyong smiled up at him, and Seunghyun couldn’t resist another kiss. The younger man slid his free hand up the front of Seunghyun’s formal shirt. “Go wait in my bedroom, Tabi. I’ll be just a minute.” Seunghyun gulped, and obeyed.

He removed his jacket and tie and loosened his collar, then sat on Jiyong’s huge bed and waited. He waited some more, went to get a drink of water, and settled down again. Jiyong was doing it on purpose, he was sure; he’d never grown out of teasing his big brother. Seunghyun flopped back on the bed and sighed impatiently. He wanted to see his present where it belonged!

The lights suddenly dimmed; Seunghyun saw Jiyong’s bare arm retreat from the switch by the doors. Then Jiyong padded into the room, and Seunghyun pushed himself up on his elbows and sat there with his mouth open. Jiyong was naked almost as the day he was born, the pale gold of his slender body with its many tattoos glowing softly in the half-light. He turned to face Seunghyun when he was in front of him, stopping so the radiance from one of the standing lamps caught just so in his fair hair and made the lunula flame silver around his neck. Seunghyun remembered that Jiyong was an absolute pro model and that he’d know exactly where to stand to show himself off properly; but like this he was just astounding.

To Seunghyun, in that moment, his brother looked more than human: something made of precious metal but warm and alive. The necklace followed the curves of his throat like it had been fitted to the millimetre – it had, Seunghyun had got the measurements from his stylist – clasping his slim neck as if it was part of him. It kindled in the light into a fluid halo. The diamond was a bloody, sparkling well at its centre. Jiyong looked at him silently, his exquisite chin lifted, and Seunghyun couldn’t help but blaspheme to himself because like this Jiyong literally looked divine.

“Jiyong…” he breathed, and it was absolutely a prayer. Jiyong stood motionless, letting Seunghyun look up at him; his beauty seemed to deepen even more under the older man’s gaze.

“You like?” he asked softly.

“You’re…” Seunghyun didn’t have the adjectives to describe it. His love for Jiyong went beyond language, and the normally articulate lawyer found himself dumb.

“Thank you, Tabi,” murmured Jiyong, and gave him a slow smile that was the complete opposite of divine. Immediately Seunghyun felt himself go red; his little brother had been giving him that smile since he was sixteen, and it never failed to make him giddy. “It’s beautiful,” Jiyong told him, splaying his hand over the necklace. “Almost as beautiful as you.” He took a step forward.

“That’s my heart you’ve got there,” Seunghyun told him breathlessly.

“Ah.” Jiyong circled the red diamond with his fingertips, and smiled. “I can see why it’s worth ten million dollars, then.”

“…You cheeseball, you’ve worked in TV too long.” Seunghyun tried to sound normal, but suspected he had failed when Jiyong’s devilish smile widened, white teeth gleaming against his perfect lips. He sat up with difficulty – he was getting harder with every step Jiyong took away from his remote aura of divinity – and reached for him.

“No,” Jiyong ordered calmly. “You’re not to do a damn thing. Take your clothes off, Tabi, and lie down. Slowly,” he instructed, as Seunghyun began to strip. “Give me a show.”

Seunghyun obeyed him as if there was no possibility of doing anything else. Jiyong’s dark eyes gleamed; Seunghyun could feel his stare almost physically on his skin, could see the smaller man getting hard as he watched him. Jiyong waited until Seunghyun had laid himself out on the bed, then bent gracefully and picked up his brother’s discarded silk tie. Seunghyun’s gaze dropped to it when Jiyong snapped it taut between his hands and gave him a smouldering look over the top.

“Put your hands up,” ordered Jiyong sinuously. “Hold on to the bedframe. Yeah, like that.” Seunghyun felt a dart of excitement that went straight to his erection; he knew what Jiyong was going to do. Sure enough, Jiyong approached him, predatory and elegant as a leopard, and leaned down to tie the older man’s wrists to the bed. He trailed the silk over Seunghyun’s hands before fastening it in a secure knot and bending to give him one tantalising almost-kiss. “Pull,” Jiyong told him. “I’m not playing about!”

Seunghyun obediently gave it a tug, but nothing doing; he was stuck, at Jiyong’s mercy, which was great, and unable to touch him, which wasn’t. Jiyong backed off again and padded slowly round the bed, giving Seunghyun a great view of what he was about to get if he behaved. Jiyong’s body had matured beautifully; he worked out almost every day now, and though as always he verged on the side of too slim it mixed his toned strength with a delicacy Seunghyun found quite seductive. Seunghyun didn’t take his eyes off him; he wished Jiyong would be kind and touch him.

Jiyong trailed his hand over the opulent covers as he circumnavigated Seunghyun’s space, still not making contact. Then he climbed up on the bed and stood there at his feet looking down at him as if the bigger man was an offering. Seunghyun took a quick breath; Jiyong was too perfect to be real.

“…What do you want me to do to you?” asked Jiyong in velvet tones. “Hmm?”

“ _Anything_ ,” replied Seunghyun reverently.

“Correct answer.” Jiyong’s lips curled in another smile and he sank to his knees, straddling Seunghyun’s hips and leaning forward to hover over him. He was careful not to touch his brother anywhere, though he was so close Seunghyun could feel the heat of his skin. Seunghyun rocked his hips up to try and get contact. “No,” murmured Jiyong, lowering himself so their mouths and their bodies almost met. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, Tabi,” he continued in a whisper, his hands now ghosting over Seunghyun’s bound arms. “And you don’t have to lift a finger.”

“Wanna touch you,” Seunghyun told him hoarsely.

“You can touch this. It belongs to you.” Jiyong arched his neck, and if he raised his head Seunghyun could just about reach the platinum crescent. He pressed a passionate kiss to the diamond in lieu of Jiyong’s red lips. “…I love you, Tabi,” said Jiyong honestly, then shifted backwards to give him a real kiss.

Seunghyun gasped into his mouth and returned it desperately, Jiyong’s tongue caressing his own until the younger man pulled back to tease him with a series of feather-light brushes of his lips. Seunghyun arched up again but Jiyong was on the move, his mouth and hands on Seunghyun’s damp neck, his chest, his stomach. Then the bigger man groaned unashamedly as Jiyong’s mouth closed around the head of his cock, slim fingers stroking his thighs in a way that should tickle but instead traced delicate paths of fire across his skin.

“Jiyong…!” exclaimed Seunghyun. His brother knew his body far better than he knew it himself, and now Jiyong was teasing it into a frenzy. He felt Jiyong smile around his erection, then swallow it down completely. “ _Stop_!” For a wonder Jiyong did, looking up to meet Seunghyun’s gaze and licking his lips. “…I’m not nineteen years old anymore,” Seunghyun scolded him breathlessly. “If you make me come now you’ll be waiting a while ‘til you’re satisfied!”

“Well, we can’t have that,” murmured Jiyong. Leaning forward he offered Seunghyun two of his slender fingers; Seunghyun kissed the tips, then took them hungrily into his mouth until they were wet and glistening. “Watch me, then, Tabi,” Jiyong told him with that wicked smile on his face.

Seunghyun obeyed. He wouldn’t have looked away for anything from the insanely erotic spectacle of his brother slowly opening himself up, Jiyong on his knees above him, one hand between his thighs and plump lower lip caught in his teeth. Jiyong made a soft sound of pleasure as he stretched himself. Once the smaller man was starting to pant he removed his fingers and resumed blowing Seunghyun, getting him as wet and slippery as possible.

“…Beg me!” ordered Jiyong, laving his pink tongue over the tip of Seunghyun’s hard-on.

“ _Please_ ,” implored Seunghyun immediately, almost delirious already from the power of Jiyong’s knockout sexuality. “I’ll do _anything_ , just let me touch you…!”

Jiyong didn’t reply, just smiled approvingly and lowered himself onto Seunghyun’s erection. Seunghyun gasped in pure lust and moved his hips, trying helplessly to get closer to the younger man. Jiyong was making sweet sounds of effort as he sank down until he was sitting astride Seunghyun’s hips. Then he ran his hands admiringly down his brother’s chest and began to ride him.

Seunghyun stared up at him helplessly, letting Jiyong draw the low moans of pleasure out of him. Jiyong’s golden skin was flushed and damp, the necklace thudding against his clavicles as the intensity increased. To Seunghyun it seemed like a collar tying him to Jiyong, the red diamond a priceless dedication. Jiyong varied the pace and depth until Seunghyun thought he was going to go mad with desire for him.

“No, Tabi,” Jiyong warned him shakily, leaning down to set his hand to Seunghyun’s face without breaking his rhythm. “Not before me!”

Seunghyun aimed a frustrated bite at Jiyong’s thumb; the younger man hissed, then kissed him roughly and straightened back up, beginning to touch himself as he moved faster.

“…You’re all mine,” crowed Jiyong softly, sucking in a harsh breath as he neared his climax. “I don’t care who knows it, Tabi, I…” Seunghyun thrust up into him, unable to control himself. “Ahh…! I’m gonna show them,” Jiyong vowed, a red blush creeping down his chest. “At last everyone’s gonna know…that you love me!”

“ _Anything_ ,” growled Seunghyun, and at that moment he meant it. He felt ecstatic enough right then that he wouldn’t care if Jiyong told the whole world Seunghyun belonged to him. Jiyong laughed giddily, slender hips snapping faster, and at last he came. His face as he climaxed was the most perfect thing Seunghyun had ever seen; but Jiyong quickly pulled himself together, not stopping but continuing to fuck Seunghyun, moaning beautifully as his over-sensitised body worked to please him.

“Love you, love you…” Jiyong was whispering, head thrown back. Seunghyun though he’d go mad if he couldn’t touch him; but before that he came, seeing Jiyong’s lovely face change and turn triumphant.

Jiyong collapsed onto him, chest heaving above his.

“Oh, _Tabi_ …” he managed, alternating between kissing his brother and gasping in air.

“…Happy birthday,” Seunghyun said dazedly. “Here’s to another forty years…!” Jiyong kissed him again, pressed his magical body against him, and Seunghyun thought that ten million dollars was an absolute bargain.

 

“I wasn’t kidding, you know,” said Jiyong, climbing back into bed once he had untied Seunghyun and cleaned himself up. He slid his fingers over the diamond at his throat – he could only see it if he squinted downwards with his eyes crossed, but he could tell from Seunghyun’s expression just how magnificent the necklace looked. He couldn’t bring himself to take it off.

“Huh?” murmured Seunghyun dopily. Jiyong had worn him out, and was feeling very smug that he still had what it took – even at their age.

“About showing this off to everyone.” Jiyong left off fiddling with the necklace and leaned against his brother companionably. “Showing them you love me.”

“Well of course you’re going to wear it,” said Seunghyun reasonably. “That’s why I bought it.”

“I mean everybody.” Seunghyun had been so extravagant; Jiyong wanted to be the same. “I’ve got that big shoot for French _Vogue_ ’s Chanel anniversary edition,” he reminded the older man. “I’m gonna have them showcase it, and I’ll tell everyone where it came from!”

“…You really don’t care what people think, do you.” Seunghyun wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m not an idol anymore, Tabi,” Jiyong reminded him. “I’m too old, and I don’t have to act so squeaky clean. Look, I know every time one of our friends gets married you wish we could show people we’re the same.” Seunghyun opened his mouth. “Yes, you do,” Jiyong insisted. “You get this look on your face and go all quiet. You bought me this thing ‘cos you can’t get me a ring, even I can see that. So, this is our chance to show how much you care.”

“You don’t have to show it. We both know it.”

“Come on,” Jiyong cajoled. “It’s not like I’m announcing we’re fucking to all and sundry. People will think what they always do: you’re a rich eccentric and you like spoiling me. It’s only the _scale_ that’s gonna knock ‘em dead.” He saw Seunghyun sigh, but for once was spared the lecture about being cautious.

“Speaking of which,” was all Seunghyun said, “are you gonna let me put that thing in the safe?”

“Later.” Jiyong liked how his brother looked at him when he was wearing it. “Although,” he added, seeing as Seunghyun was determined to be practical, “tomorrow you’d better get Daesung over here for me.” Seunghyun’s expression turned quizzical. “I’m gonna have to put it in my will, right?”

“Right.” The older man gave his hair an approving ruffle. “Doesn’t have to be tomorrow, but yeah. If you want it sorted quickly, though, I can do it for you.”

“Isn’t that weird?”

“What?”

“My beneficiary also being my lawyer.”

“…I’m what?” said Seunghyun, in a voice that made Jiyong glance up at him.

“Don’t you want it back one day?” asked the smaller man, fingers on the diamond again. Seunghyun huffed.

“Thought you’d want to leave it to someone younger. Like Seungri.”

“Oh, shut up, like he’d know what to do with it.” Jiyong frowned. “Anyway, I’m leaving everything else to you, apart from some charity funds and stuff.”

“…Don’t,” said Seunghyun, sounding half touched and half aghast.

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t make sense. You’re younger than me. And I don’t need it.”

“Yeah,” countered Jiyong, for whom it had seemed an obvious decision. “But when you think about it, Tabi, who else is there? Dad’s in his seventies, my friends are all comfortable, and we don’t have any other relatives.”

“What about your cousins?” Jiyong nodded; he hadn’t seen his mother’s family for years and years, but he knew Seunghyun had been bitterly and irrationally jealous. It was sweet of him to think of them.

“They’ll get something,” he allowed. “But not everything. And we don’t have any _younger_ family.” He leaned back against Seunghyun’s arm, paused, then went ahead and said it. “We don’t have kids.”

“No,” agreed Seunghyun carefully, because while this had come up now and again over the last five years, they had been content to let it drop each time. Jiyong had never seen it as urgent, and he’d certainly never thought about it from this angle. “…Do you want to?” his brother asked softly. “I know you like them, and if you decide you do – not as a solution to a legal puzzle, but if _you want_ them… Well, I guess there are ways you could have children.”

“If _we_ wanted them,” Jiyong corrected him, suddenly floored by the gravity in Seunghyun’s tone; he hadn’t meant the conversation to take this turn! “It’s not something I’d ever decide by myself.”

“It’s your right to decide.” Seunghyun kissed his temple. “You’re quite good with them. I’m not. Still, I’d always planned to have them. Right up ‘til…well, y’know, _you_.”

“So…you _do_ want them? Or not?” said Jiyong anxiously. His head was swimming with the idea of it, and he found himself absolutely terrified. Seunghyun looked at him, deep in thought.

“I want them if they’re yours,” he said, after a while. “That’s the only scenario I can come up with where I could spare enough attention for anyone but _you_.”

“That’s what I was gonna say!” Jiyong exclaimed, and laughed, just a little hysterically. “Your kids would be cute as hell, Tabi. Mine would be absolute nightmares. Isn’t it enough to have one diva in the house?”

“Shut up.” Seunghyun kissed him, a wry smile against his lips.

“If they were _ours_ ,” Jiyong went on, feeling slightly wistful but mostly relieved. “…But that’s impossible.” Seunghyun rubbed his back bracingly. “It’s okay,” said Jiyong. “I’m already, like, the best uncle ever to Youngbae’s kids, and Haewon’s.”

“Alright then,” said Seunghyun, also sounding relieved. “You don’t want your own children, and I don’t want mine. So…”

“I guess that answers that question, for now at least!” said Jiyong. He sighed. “As long as you’re sure.”

“No regrets,” Seunghyun told him adoringly.

“Good. ‘Cos all I wanted since I was sixteen was to have you for myself. I gave you away once, but never again!” Jiyong leaned up and kissed him once more, hard. That had been a scary conversation – he’d like a bit of warning if they were going to have it again.

“…But back to the point!” ordered Seunghyun eventually, dragging himself away from Jiyong’s mouth.

“What was the point?”

“Your will,” Seunghyun said, stubborn as ever. Jiyong rolled his eyes; typical lawyer. “I’m being serious,” his brother went on. “ _Don’t_ leave me your ridiculous fortune. Or your stuff, or even this.” He ran his fingers along the edge of the necklace.

“Why not?” parroted Jiyong.

“I don’t need it. Really. Leave it all to charity, baby.”

“That’s so impersonal. I want _you_ as my beneficiary. If you want to donate it all after, then knock yourself out!” Seunghyun gave him a narrow look.

“Are you thinking of this as, like, some posthumous grand statement?” he inquired, annoyingly perceptive. “You are, aren’t you.” Jiyong gazed back defiantly as the older man shook his head. “This is all another way to shove it in people’s faces that you love me.”

“And this wasn’t?!” exclaimed Jiyong, tapping the diamond. Seunghyun had no response to _that_ , he noted.

“Whatever the reason,” said Seunghyun, sounding infinitely fond and wistful, “you’re kind of missing a crucial point.”

“Oh?”

“You’re my _little_ brother.” Seunghyun gave Jiyong a squeeze. “The odds are not in favour of me being around to leave it to.”

“…Maybe that’s true,” said Jiyong, who had worked hard for a great while to put his brother’s old near-brush with death behind him. Christ, it panicked him just to imagine the prospect. “But maybe it isn’t.” He kissed Seunghyun’s shoulder and burrowed closer against him. “I could get hit by a car tomorrow!” After what had happened to his mother, he felt he knew that better than anyone.

“Nevertheless,” replied Seunghyun, in an odd voice. “Don’t.” Jiyong sat up – Seunghyun was gazing at him with those big brown eyes, solemn and determined. “You can have me as your executor, if you want,” the other man continued, “if you name a younger attorney as backup just in case. But you need a different beneficiary. To keep it simple – to save time.”

“Save time?” Seunghyun took his hand, fingertips caressing across his palm.

“If you leave it all to me, I’ll have to spend ages arranging to give it away. That’s not time I’ll want to waste; I’ll have enough to do sorting out my own stuff.”

“…What for?” asked Jiyong; he felt something flutter to life inside his chest, an eerie beat of glassy wings against his heart. He caught Seunghyun’s long fingers in his own to stop their wandering. Then his brother smiled.

“Stupid boy.” Seunghyun raised Jiyong’s hand to his lips. “You think I’d want to hang around after you were gone?” Jiyong felt the blood fade from his face, and bit his tongue to keep himself quiet. He thought carefully about everything that might mean. “Yeah, it’s what you’re thinking,” Seunghyun told him, now sounding quite composed.

“It can’t be.” Yes, Seunghyun had been known to act in some extreme ways when it came to Jiyong, but what he was suggesting now was positively operatic.

“Since I was nineteen,” said Seunghyun, looking disarmingly un-theatrical as he leaned back calmly against the headboard, “I’ve lived my life thinking of you. Working for you and wanting you. I’ve even killed for you. So, practically speaking…you _are_ my life. I told you that a long time ago.”

“ _Tabi_.”

“I don’t regret it,” continued the older man. He patted Jiyong’s hand. “I enjoy it; I _love_ it. So, say you go before me – unlikely, but you’re right, you never know. Why would I keep slogging away at something I don’t enjoy anymore?”

“ _Please_ ,” managed Jiyong, kissing Seunghyun’s fingers in turn. “Don’t say it like I’m the only thing that makes your life important! Like there’s no-one else you love or who loves you…!” Of all the over-simplistic, melodramatic… And yet Jiyong had a deep, awful conviction that his brother was serious.

“That,” Seunghyun said reasonably, “is one of the advantages of not having dependents. I can do what I like! No-one’s gonna miss me so bad it’ll do them harm. Admittedly,” he went on, “when I picture the scene I’m usually about ninety – it sounds a lot more normal then.” Jiyong, still reeling, supposed he could concede that. You heard stories about it now and then, of old married couples who went naturally within days of each other. When you thought about it like that, it was rather sweet.

“But not when you say it _now_!” He squeezed Seunghyun’s hand in his fist, those familiar, beloved fingers. “If I died tomorrow-”

“There’d be a hell of a lot of paperwork,” said his impossible sibling, with a _grin_ , of all things. “You’re not halfway prepared. So I’d be pretty pissed at you, baby. But I’d be safe in the knowledge that I’d see you soon enough to get my own back.”

“…You believe that.” This was becoming more and more of a mindfuck. “That you’d see me again.” Jiyong had thought that his brother had more or less abandoned any religious feelings throughout the course of their relationship; he had certainly never mentioned it since they were young. As ever, Jiyong was unsure what he himself believed – but it was a shock to hear Seunghyun talk like this. As if it was a certainty.

“The older I get, the more I believe it,” said Seunghyun serenely. “Maybe it won’t be the way we were raised to imagine it, but…something.”

“Then,” pointed out Jiyong, wanting to laugh for no reason, “wouldn’t trying to follow me be a sin? That’s what they used to teach us, right? You can’t have it all ways, Tabi.”

“I can.” Seunghyun smiled at his expression. “If there’s nothing afterwards, then I’m not losing anything – just a life without you, which I already told you holds no interest for me. No, keep your mouth shut and listen,” he said, as Jiyong moved to interrupt. “If there _is_ , and it’s what we were taught – Heaven and Hell and all that – then you’re gonna need me there, baby. ‘Cos you’re right: if you go by that teaching, you and me, we’re _sinners_ ; and I want to be around to protect you.”

“You know how ridiculous you sound?”

“I know,” Seunghyun agreed affectionately. “Pipe down. If there is, and it’s _not_ what we learned… If it’s something else, something _new_ … Don’t you want to find out together?”

“I…” Seunghyun’s beautiful face was shining, and Jiyong imagined the wings fluttering against his heart beginning to glow. “…I like that one best,” he said, unsteady. Seunghyun smiled wider and cupped his face in one hand.

“You get my reasoning, don’t you.” He slid his palm down Jiyong’s neck to cover the diamond. “ _This_ doesn’t mean anything, in the end. The only thing that does is you. And I’m pretty okay with that. So fix your will like I say, and no more argument, all right?”

“You’re crazy,” Jiyong told him, feeling the beat of his pulse strong and vital under Seunghyun’s hand. The bigger man shrugged. Jiyong’s breath caught in a faint sob that he could not define or understand; but something was making him smile in answer to his brother’s expression. Whatever it was made Seunghyun exhale in satisfaction and tug him back down to lie in his arms.

“Glad we got that out of the way,” said Seunghyun, and turned to nuzzle his head comfortably into Jiyong’s neck. “Crazy or not. Ow,” he added, after knocking his nose against the platinum necklace, “wish I _had_ just got you cake now!”

“…Out of the way for you, Tabi,” muttered Jiyong; he could still hear the tremor in his own voice. “But if that’s what you’d do…what would _I_ do?”

“Whatever you want,” answered Seunghyun, like it was obvious. “‘Cos if anything makes my life satisfying, it’s that: making sure you have what you want.” He yawned. “I love you, you’re happy, you love me back…life’s pretty simple, really. Took us a while to get here… but it was worth it.”

“ _Yes_ ,” said Jiyong, wrapping both arms tight around him. “And I do love you.”

If there was one thing he could agree with out of this night of extraordinary announcements, it was that. Everything they had done to each other, and for each other, had brought them to this point: Seunghyun here beside him, body and mind – their hearts in each other’s keeping. Yes, it was worth it.

Jiyong did not know, in the end, what he would do if faced with the decision his brother had already made. But he had their entire life together to think about it. And if that wasn’t enough to give thanks for, nothing was.

He snuggled closer to Seunghyun’s warmth, said a prayer to the universe in general, and went to sleep.

 

END

 

* * *

 

 

_Am having trouble letting go of these guys, so I drew a picture to finish up the story :)_

_Click on the thumbnail below to see the sexy high-res non-smartphone version:_

[ ](https://i.imgur.com/G06yKi2.png)

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it: a happy ever after for Jiyong and Seunghyun, just as I promised. ^^
> 
> Of course this isn’t the end of their story, but it is, at last, the end of this particular fic. So I invite you to imagine for yourselves what their future together will be like (oh, and please do tell me too if you have ideas, I’d love to hear what other kinds of life events you envision for them. I might write some one-shots sometime XD). 
> 
> I bet they’d be so adorable when they’re grandpa age. Lovey-dovey old couples are the cutest thing ever; I imagine the boys when they’re seventy to be like Robert and Saul from _Grace and Frankie_ (and if you haven’t seen that show I can’t recommend it highly enough for how it represents older women and gay men! It’s genuinely hilarious too).
> 
> A massive thank you to all of you who’ve stuck with this huge beast of a story from beginning to end, through the fluff and the dark times both! I really appreciated your thoughts and encouragement throughout. 
> 
> Wow, it feels weird to have finished at last. This is the longest thing I’ve ever written (twice as long as my PhD dissertation. Yup, my life priorities aren’t screwed up at all! ^^;)  
> Question is, what do I do now? :)


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